Paved with Good Intentions: Lightbringer
by Iced Blood
Summary: Spin-off project; third in the "Good Intentions" series. Part 28: What would you do, if you had the chance to introduce Seto Kaiba to the game that would change his life forever?
1. The Other Night, I Had a Dream

_**Part of crafting believable fiction is establishing rules. Whether you're talking about a contemporary thriller, a supernatural romance, a space opera or an epic ballad, there are rules to follow. That's part of what makes the fantasy genre so special to me. Specifically, I'm talking about medieval fantasy. It's the mixing of realistic people in unrealistic situations.**_

_**In the vein of this idea that is so fascinating and inspiring to me, we have this project. Aside from fleshing out the "Good Intentions" universe, this story began as a way for me to break one of the rules that I established for the series when I started. See, when I wrote out the first chapter of the original "Good Intentions," and then the second, and then the third, I started noticing something.**_

_**There wasn't any magic.**_

_**Yu-Gi-Oh! (or Yuugiou, if that's your bag, baby) is full of magic. Every conflict of the entire series is either caused, or solved, by magic. Most of the time, both. And "Good Intentions" was my way of getting away from that. It's why I set the story long after the timeline of the series. Magic isn't involved. It's just life. Life for Seto, life for Mokuba, and life for the gang.**_

_**Well…I wondered what might happen if I introduced magic into the mix at some point. And I decided that I couldn't, in good conscience, do it. Not in the main story.**_

_**But…I could do it in another story.**_

_**In such throes was "Lightbringer" born.**_

_**This is a side-story. A filler arc, if you want to be cynical about it. But I beg that you have patience with it, and with me. I think you'll like where it goes.**_

_**This story takes place after the "Shot in the Dark" storyline, so if you haven't read the original "Good Intentions" up until that point, then thar be spoilers ahead. You have been warned.**_

_**Now, then. Shall we begin?**_

* * *

"_You will bring me."_

Yugi Mutou woke up with a shock, staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom short of breath and sweating, even though he didn't think he'd been having any kind of nightmare. He took a long, long moment to compose himself before he set his mind, such as it was, to working.

He tried to think; what had just happened? What had he been dreaming about? He couldn't remember. It wasn't like typical dreams or nightmares, where the image is clear as summer daylight and fades with all the quickness of a spirit; he had _nothing. _He could remember _nothing. _When he tried to reach into the back of his mind for the slightest inkling of what had put his body into such a state that it was practically seizing, all he got was a blank, black slab of...nothing.

It was still dark. He checked the digital alarm clock on his nightstand. 3:38. He had a couple hours yet before he had to wake up. He turned around, settled the covers about himself, and closed his eyes. He'd been having trouble sleeping for a while, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what it was that had been bothering him. He didn't _think _it was anything psychological. Things were pretty good now.

Oh, sure, there was the fuster-cluck of a meeting with Téa a few days back, when Joey had gone on a self-righteous sermon about _Kaiba _of all people, and Mokuba had all but sentenced the poor girl to death. But he'd been having problems with sleep for about a week before _that _had happened, and anyway, he wasn't entirely sure that he was upset about that.

Siegfried von Schroeder's kidnapping of Mokuba Kaiba would probably go into Domino City's (colorful) history books as one of the most polarizing events of the Kaiba family's legacy. The way it had ended, with Kaiba putting a bullet through his former business rival's throat and Mokuba subsequently being withdrawn from school (he'd gone back as of a few months ago, but had spent a good half a year being home-schooled by his brother and the Kaiba Estate's staff), had caused a rift between the city's population as wide as the Grand Canyon and twice as deep.

On the one hand, there were the indignant finger-pointers ("haters gonna hate," Joey had said once, then sent himself into a fit of self-deprecating laughter), who said that Seto Kaiba was a murderer and that he was training Mokuba to be the same, that Siegfried von Schroeder had only been guilty of being in the way and his actions were all just one big misunderstanding.

On the other, there were the supporters, who were so haughtily insulted by the arguments of the latter group that they'd all but exploded. Yugi had read some of the blogs and forums and articles in various online magazines, and he couldn't help but be impressed at the level of...well, dedication. The Kaiba family's fans were devoted, heart and soul; the Kaibas were the golden children of the city, and their supporters treated them accordingly. Pages on pages of surprisingly well-thought-out arguments as to Seto Kaiba's innocence had invaded the internet.

But if the support for Kaiba was surprising, then the rabid defense of Mokuba was astounding.

Anyone who dared bring Mokuba into the argument was summarily eviscerated. The proverbial Boy Wonder to his brother's Dark Knight (Yugi actually found a chuckle, in spite of his confusion, at the image of Kaiba stalking the night-shrouded Domino City in tights and a cape), Mokuba was ascendant. He was the victim, no argument accepted, and to even suggest anything otherwise was suicide.

Some people suggested that Kaiba was calling in the troops, calling (read: paying) for _his people _to make these arguments for him, but Yugi knew better than that; he knew that Kaiba hadn't paid attention to a single word of the media explosion Siegfried von Schroeder's depraved, bloody swan song had caused. He had more important things on his mind. "Like making it so that his brother doesn't cry himself to sleep anymore," Detective Darren McKinley had muttered once, on camera, forgetting in a blaze of anger that this would be embarrassing to both the Kaibas and that neither would appreciate it.

Yugi thought it was good that he'd said it, though. People needed to remember that for all his exposure to the public, for all his ungodly exploits both as his company's vice president and his brother's protégé, Mokuba was still a little boy. He wasn't like Kaiba, who had always looked older than his age and was now a legal adult; people called _Kaiba_ a boy, too, when they wanted to be sympathetic, but everyone knew it wasn't true; not in any of the ways that mattered.

Mokuba was a different story.

The poor kid was _eleven._

Mokuba was far older than his years, too, but he didn't look it. Unlike his brother, who had apparently looked like an adult before there was ever a "-teen" suffixed to his age, Mokuba _looked _about nine. He was small, and his face had an inherent innocence about it that tended to work in his favor. Usually.

For some stupid reason, people forgot how young he was in the face of his almost dying.

Idiots.

These thoughts and a thousand more whirled through Yugi's mind, and eventually he just threw the sheets and blanket off of himself and got up. There was no use; he was never getting back to sleep tonight. He stationed himself on his desk and turned on his lamp, thinking he might play Solitaire or something, maybe build a new dueling deck, and he was already reaching for cards before he realized what was sitting in front of him, framed perfectly in the round lamplight.

He'd thought it to have vanished two years ago, to have gone to rest with its owner. He'd thought that he would never see, touch, or _think _about it again. He'd thought that that part of his life was over. But here it was, staring him in the face, glaring and glowing in an infinitude of tiny pieces.

Tiny shards of memory.

The Millennium Puzzle.


	2. This Mark You've Made on Me

_**Like another project I started recently, "The City that Wouldn't Die," I'm going to be updating this story in a one-scene-per-chapter format. That means each chapter of this piece will be shorter than those of the original "Paved with Good Intentions." However, it also means that I will be able to update more often. I will be putting up one scene per week. Unlike the aforementioned other project, I can assure you that this update schedule will keep. I've run into a number of road blocks recently, and find it decidedly difficult to write. Nonetheless, I have plenty of raw material for this one already lined up, and can ensure my once-a-week schedule for a long time.**_

_**Enjoy this second installment, which will help to set the stage for where, and when, this story begins.**_

* * *

"You serious?"

Yugi nodded, looking partly excited, partly confused, partly...melancholy. Joey Wheeler frowned thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair, and stole a glance at Tristan and Téa, checking their reactions before saying anything else. Tristan looked confused, and Téa actually looked happy for the first time since that first day of her visit. She toyed with the ends of her hair, trying to hide her excitement. Yugi knew what she was thinking: if the puzzle was back, that might mean that the spirit who had called that puzzle home could be back, as well. Téa had always liked the spirit of the king who'd called himself Yami. She tried to hide it, for Yugi's sake, but they all knew full well that she'd had a not-so-secret crush on him almost from the first.

"Yeah," Yugi said, smiling in spite of his confusion. The idea of seeing his partner again after so long was...invigorating. "I just...woke up, went to my desk, and there it was."

"But not put together," Tristan said. "So it's like when you first got it."

Yugi nodded. "But I can put it back together. Easy."

"When you put it together the first time, how long did it take you?" Joey wondered.

"Um...about eight years." Yugi could almost hear a record scratching as his friends all stared at him. He laughed. "But after the first time, it's like the patterns burned themselves into my head. I can still remember how it goes. I could probably do it blindfolded."

It seemed so strange, thinking about that man again. The ancient king who had started as a stranger possessing his body like he was some kind of living puppet, and had become...a part of him. Almost everything Yugi had become over the past couple of years, he attributed to Yami. He wasn't positive that putting the puzzle back together would bring the spirit back, and he wasn't sure he wanted to disturb the former monarch's rest, but he thought that the puzzle's return had to mean _something. _Why would it have come back to him, if not for him to put it back together?

A part of him had wondered, that first night, whether or not the artifact was even genuine. He wondered if it was some kind of replica, and maybe his mother or his grandfather (or, some distant hope intoned, his father) had left it for him as a surprise. But any doubts as to the puzzle's authenticity had been dashed as soon as Yugi found the central piece, the center, the _nexus, _emblazoned with the immortal Eye of Horus.

As soon as he'd laid a single finger on that holy symbol, he'd known.

A familiar power had _sung _up his arm and blossomed in his chest, and he'd known.

It was real.

Even though a certain part of his mind told him that it might not be a good idea to disturb Yami, Yugi knew that he was going to put the Millennium Puzzle back together. No matter what arguments his mind and heart came up with, the majority of his thoughts espoused the theory that he'd known what he was going to do with those pieces the moment he'd seen them.

There was no use arguing about it.

He was going to do it.

"Why you think it came back?" Tristan asked. "Didn't it disappear when...when _he _did?"

Yugi nodded. "Yeah. I thought I'd never see it again. I thought Yami'd taken it with him, to...wherever it is he went. Heaven, I hope. Or maybe buried in that tomb, with the rest of them. I thought the time of the Millennium Items was over."

"I guess it isn't," Téa said. "I wonder what he has to do. What...what _you _have to do."

Yugi noticed that she didn't say "what _we_ have to do," and part of him wondered why that would be. Part of him thought that maybe she didn't _want_ to be a part of it this time, and he couldn't blame her if that were true. But the shrewd observer that Yami had sparked in him thought it more likely that she didn't think she _deserved _to be a part of it this time.

And Yugi couldn't blame her for that, either, considering her actions lately.

Mokuba was a good kid, a born charmer, but his tongue could be just as sharp as his brother's when he wanted it to be. And usually when he did tear into someone, it made ten times the impression on people than Kaiba ever could, simply because it was so rare.

It took a special sort of trespass to put _that _level of hatred into the eyes of a child.


	3. The Box Stays the Same

_**This installment is shorter than the previous two, and for that I apologize. I will be correspondingly brief in my notes. I've only used this method of updating with one other project, and while it makes for more regular updates, sometimes it makes for short chapters.**_

_**Still, I think that those of you who have enjoyed the "Good Intentions" series so far will enjoy a couple of familiar faces. One, in particular, hasn't shown up in a while. And, as we will see, it's probably a good thing he showed up.**_

* * *

"You okay?"

In some things, Mokuba Kaiba felt like the opposite of his older brother. Where Seto broadcasted every last hint of anger and disgust he'd ever felt, right out there for all the world to see, and hid every smile, Mokuba liked to hide anger and disgust and sadness and insecurity _behind _a smile. He'd gotten pretty good at it...or at least he thought he had.

Either he'd vastly underestimated his own ability to put on masks, or he'd vastly underestimated Connor Brinkley's ability to see through them.

"...Not really," Mokuba said, figuring it best not to lie about it. He thought that it must be painfully obvious that he _wasn't _okay, if the clenched fists and the constant sighing were any indication. He finally stopped walking and just sat down on the curb, staring down at the street as if it might hold some answers. Connor sat down next to him and looked over. "Do you...know about my brother?" Mokuba asked the blond boy eventually. Connor looked surprised and kind of confused. "I mean...like...what he does? Who he is? What...what people think of him?"

Connor mulled on this for a moment. "Well...I know he's famous. Like, _super _famous. I've seen his picture on magazines and stuff. He's on TV a lot. Most of the people I've seen who talk about him don't seem to like him too much. Is that what you're talking about?"

Mokuba nodded sulkily. "Yeah."

"Isn't that what happens with famous people, though? I mean, like...don't people usually get all critical and stuff? Oh, man, you have so much money, you should give _us _some. We pay your salary! That kind of thing?"

Mokuba found a half-smile that didn't feel the slightest bit sincere. He said, "...When you say it like that, it feels like it _should _be normal. But...but it's not. I mean, I know what you're talking about. Niisama would say you're right. He'd say it's human nature. They want to drag him down to their level, instead of looking up to his example. Well...he wouldn't _say _it that way, but that's what he'd mean."

Connor looked like he wasn't entirely sure what Mokuba was talking about. He said, "What happened? Somebody badmouth the Niisama again?" He gave a slight, nervous, almost-grin, and Mokuba found that the smile _he_ was wearing didn't feel quite so fake anymore.

"...Kinda. She's just...she's one of Yugi's friends. She's been around since...ever. When I first met them, she was there with the others. When Niisama...when he sent Yugi's grandpa to the hospital...you know, when he had the heart attack. Téa was the one who kind of...led the crusade, I guess. She hasn't changed. It's been three years, and she's still the same judgmental..._bitch _she always was."

Connor flinched and looked around, as if sure that his mother would have heard the black-haired boy curse and come running to reprimand them. He frowned. "This is about...about that Schroeder guy, isn't it? The guy that's been on the news and...and...stuff. The guy who tried to kill you."

"He didn't just _try,"_ Mokuba said, haunted. "Pegasus Crawford _tried _to kill me. Malik Ishtar _tried _to kill me. Siegfried von Schroeder...he _did _kill me. That's...that's what it felt like. It was different from all the other times. It was...it was...cold. I still...I don't know how he did it. I don't know how he...how he saved me."

Connor's grin came full force. "Sure you do," he said happily. "Your big brother's a superhero."

Mokuba laughed. It was a good laugh, light and honest. Warm.

Friendly.

"...Thanks."


	4. I Don't Wanna Hear the Same Opinion

_**There's quite a bit of planning and groundwork that goes into a project like this, and I know that this format might not be optimal. But I hope that you will be patient with me. I'm doing it this way to ensure that I have enough content to keep going for a long time. I have a lot of projects going on right now; though I've just recently finished one of them ("Best I Am," my romance-oriented one-shot collection set in the Bleach universe), I still have eight ongoing.**_

_**That said, this chapter is longer than the previous one. So I hope that helps. I'll keep working out kinks and issues, and hopefully I'll be able to eventually update more than once a week. I'll keep you posted.**_

_**Until then, enjoy. I'll see you next time.**_

* * *

"Master Kaiba."

Seto Sasaki-Yagami Kaiba wasn't a man used to being reprimanded. He was used to being criticized, sure, but that was somehow different. _This _was different. As he stared across the desk at his personal assistant, flanked by two members of his security staff, he couldn't help but feel like an elementary school student in the principal's office.

Which was ridiculous because in this building, _he _was the principal, and this was _his _office.

"If you have something to say about my decision, say it. _Clearly. _Start again with euphemistic platitudes and you can leave."

Roland Ackerman sighed heavily and nodded. "Of course, sir."

Vincent Zika suddenly looked as though he finally understood the folly of this undertaking, and was very much wishing he'd stayed on the other side of the door. It did Seto's heart well to see it. He'd had more than enough insults to his equilibrium lately.

He glanced over at the third member of this pseudo-intervention. Helen Aarden didn't look nervous, like Vincent, nor exasperated like Roland. She looked like she was in the presence of an abject idiot.

Seto's opinion of her rose a notch.

"All we're saying, sir," said Vincent, apparently fed up with fidgeting, "is that you might want to reconsider the other candidates a _bit _more...fairly. We're not exactly in a situation where we can be picky, are we? I mean, with the von Schroeder debacle so fresh in everyone's minds..."

"Has it occurred to you that that is precisely _why _the people with whom you're presenting me are _entirely _useless?" Seto muttered, raising a thin eyebrow. "I don't need _good. _I don't need _adequate. _I don't need _sufficient. _Should I find a thesaurus and inform you as to _other _adjectives that I don'tneed? Anything to increase efficiency. We're a family. I'm only here to help."

"What _we _don't need is flippant deafness," Helen said sharply. "We don't _have _anyone that fits your standards, sir. For the love of God, you're acting like we're presenting him with a _wife. _If you want your brother protected, this is what we have. Any one of these candidates is light years ahead of _nothing, _and I was under the impression when I took this job that you maintained the mental capacity to understand that."

Seto fought the urge to laugh.

He could already tell that Roland knew what he was thinking:

_Keep this one around._

He said, "I am well aware of the 'anything is better than nothing' initiative that seems to be overtaking this country. I refuse to adhere to it." He stood up. "Let me explain something to you, Miss Aarden. I am under no magnificent delusion that I am a perfect human being. I know better than any of you think, just what is said about me in these walls. I deny none of it. Not a single word. Do you know why? The opinions of others about my character bores me to proverbial tears."

Helen crossed her arms.

Seto smirked. "Overprotective twit? Prison warden? Codependent train wreck? Emotionally stifling, overbearing moron? Fine. But do you know what _else _I am, Miss Aarden? I am _generous. _I have no use for the wealth I've acquired if it does not buy me what I want. That is the entire point of monetary exchange, and when I hire someone to work for me, I expect better from them than I can provide. I expect a spokesperson to deliver a message _better _than I can. I expect a lawyer to argue _better _than I can. I expect a bodyguard to protect _better _than I can. And until I find that, I am entirely uninterested in paying for it."

Roland drew in a breath. "And do _you _have any prospective candidates to guard the young master?" Helen quirked an eyebrow. She'd always seemed confused and even a touch disgusted by the archaic way that Roland addressed his employers.

"I do," Seto said. "He is untrained, uncouth, entirely irritating, the breed of man that I would rather didn't exist anymore. He has the vocabulary of a fifth-grader, the reasoning capacity of a preschooler, and he dresses like a felon in training." He eyed his three associates critically, sweeping his gaze over each face in turn. "And do you know why he is higher on my list of priorities than all the finely dressed, professionally trained, 'sufficiently' experienced people you have brought to me?"

Roland was fighting a grin.

Vincent and Helen looked confused.

"...Never once has he had the audacity to inform me that 'nothing will happen' to my brother while he's watching him. Never once has he had the nerve to tell me that he won't let harm catch a glimpse of him."

Vincent blinked.

Seto sat back down in his chair and leaned back, looking like some species of king.

"Over the past few weeks, I have heard any number of oaths from people who would die for my brother. Joseph Wheeler's is the only one I believe."

Roland no longer looked exasperated.

He looked impressed.

Seto thought that if he'd known, three years ago, that he would one day be defending Joey Wheeler of all _fucking _people, he might well have jumped in front of a train to avoid seeing it come to fruition. But whenever he thought of who to put in place as Mokuba's bodyguard, whenever he thought of placing someone in such a position as to protect his brother from those increasingly common threats which seemed to slip through his fingers...

Seto could only think of one thing:

The day he'd finally decided to roll the dice and ask the blond why he was putting so much (unpaid) time and effort into protecting the boy.

And Joey had said, "Same reason you do, you fuckin' dope."


	5. Miles Between Us, but Now I'm Here

_**This is the first real dose of magic to be found in this project. Those of you who have read "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes" may recall a chapter that I put out a while ago, called "Be My Glory Ever." I mentioned that that chapter was a prelude to something new that I was working on.**_

_**You might have guessed that this project is that something new.**_

* * *

Putting the Millennium Puzzle back together after so long wasn't as easy as Yugi would have anticipated, but progress was steady. Each day, he would spend a few hours in the evening poring over the remaining pieces, and in the course of about a week, he was down to only a handful.

That final night, as he sat down to finish, it felt as though he were in some kind of trance. His thoughts did not form; his hands did not answer his call. They moved of their own accord, and it was at this time that Yugi realized the pattern he remembered wasn't the one he was unearthing now. The pieces that were left did not fit where he thought they would. Though the puzzle was growing into the same shape, with the same symbols and the same thrum of energy, the pieces were different.

But his hands, they weren't confused at all. They chose each piece as if possessed, set it into place, and left him in a very familiar place: an observer in his own body. And so, where anyone else would have begun to panic, where anyone else would have screamed and thrashed and cried for help, Yugi Mutou simply sat back and watched.

He had a feeling that he knew what was happening. Who was controlling his muscles. Who else could it be? Who else had ever put him into such a position that he could watch his body moving without understanding what was happening? His mind was completely disconnected from everything else. The lamp-light on his desk was almost too bright to see anymore; the darkness of the rest of the room was suffocating.

The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Yugi felt a smirk rise on his lips, that was not his own. It was at once invigorating, transcendent, the familiar touch of a friend. And yet...it felt strangely...cold.

"...It certainly took you long enough..._Aibou."_

Yugi Mutou wasn't one to be intimidated anymore. Thanks to the influence of his friends—Joey, Tristan, even Kaiba and Mokuba—and his partner, he'd learned to face his fears head-on. And thanks to the roller coaster of years he'd spent saving the world from certain destruction, he'd learned that the normal world was a proverbial cakewalk. And walking on cake, as everyone knew, was seriously easy.

All this was to say that he didn't let himself fall into that trap of being scared by people anymore. Pegasus Crawford, Malik Ishtar…Ryou Bakura…after _them,_ what exactly did he have to fear from "regular" people?

The short answer was nothing.

But then, he wasn't in the presence of anything remotely resembling regular. The figure was translucent, dressed in the same pajama pants and black t-shirt that he was, and yet it may as well have been a richly woven robe embroidered with gold and gemstones. The figure was just as tall as he was, and yet it felt like that wasn't true. It felt to Yugi like he was craning his neck to gaze upward at this…this…

God.

And he felt the absurd (proper) desire to lower his head to the floor and prostrate himself before it.

"…Yami."

Yugi almost forewent the old nickname, but somehow that felt wrong. Téa called him Atem, and that was fine, but somehow Yugi felt like the only name by which _he _would ever know this man was Yami. And it seemed by the expression on Yami's hauntingly familiar face that he'd made the right decision, because his bright red-wine eyes seemed to sparkle.

But this didn't do anything to lessen the feeling that Yugi had never had before, and he realized the difference. This wasn't his partner. This wasn't his defender, the noble knight in golden armor who came out to protect him, to defend him and his loved ones from harm.

This was the third king of Manetho's fourth dynasty—the age of the pyramids.

This was the Ghost of the Golden Age.

This was Atemhotep, son and successor of Akhmenkhuamun.

"An unabashed pleasure to see you again,"said the spirit, and Yugi felt his lips moving, a jarring sensation of existing in two places, of being two people. He touched the fingers of his left hand to his lips, knowing that they hadn't moved a micrometer, and yet…

"Uh…you, too, Yami," Yugi said, trying a grin.

He knew that he had to sound fake, that he had to sound rude or offensive or…_something, _but Yami didn't seem to notice. Or—and Yugi found this more likely as he thought about it—he understood.

Yami always understood.

"How odd it is, looking at each other again after so long," the spirit mused.

There was a kind of…bite to Yami's tone. Something unfamiliar. Yugi wondered if it was that bite which made him finally see this man as the living deity he had once been. He wasn't sure. But he said, "I thought the puzzle was gone. I thought it was laid to rest. I thought _you _were laid to rest."

"Yes, well…devoted servant of _mayet _that I am, I'm afraid rest is no longer on the table." Again, that bite. Like he was making some kind of joke that Yugi didn't get. "I must say that, despite all, you impress me, _Aibou. _I sent the puzzle to you, hoping that you would complete it quickly. I'd anticipated that it would take you about a month."

Yugi blinked. Then he gave a lopsided sort of grin.

Yami smirked. "Well, then, it seems rather late, now, doesn't it? Everyone is sleeping. Unfortunate. But, then, I suppose that leaves me time to set things in order before my real work begins. Tell me, _Aibou, _how are the others?"

"The guys are doing pretty good," Yugi said, wondering when this conversation would feel half as weird as it was. "Joey's working at the shop. Tristan's going to college. Téa's been in New York for about a year, but she's back home for a visit."

Yami raised a curious eyebrow. "…Is she, now? Good for her." He sounded less than interested. Yugi frowned. Okay, it was feeling weird now. "And your esteemed grandfather?"

…_He always used to call him 'Grandpa,' like me, _Yugi thought.

"Uh…Grandpa's doing fine. Professor Hawkins is taking him on a dig soon."

"Ah. One last hurrah, is that it? Good. Very good." Suddenly the spirit's eyes were hard, his tone deadly serious, and Yugi felt a shock of fear run through his entire body. "Ensure that he and this Hawkins understand that to disturb my people is to foster their vengeance. They will treat my land with respect."

It sounded like it should have been a question. A request.

It wasn't.

Yugi smiled nervously. "…Of course, Yami."

Yami's face snapped into a pleasant smile. "Wonderful."

"I guess they're taking Rebecca with them. Professor Hawkins's granddaughter?"

"...Ah."

Did Yami not remember her? How could he _not? _He didn't seem to recognize the name Hawkins at all. As if this weren't weird enough, the man _still _didn't sound like he was the slightest bit interested in the answers to the questions he was asking. His eyes looked far-off, and kept drifting over to the window.

"So…Yami. What's going on? How can we help?"

Yami glanced back at his host like it was the first time he'd ever heard him talk. He said, "That time will come. Initial preparations are mine to complete. Worry not. This…should be interesting."

And suddenly his eyes were bright. Vibrant. _There._

As he said, "…How is Kaiba doing?"

* * *

_**The "Paved with Good Intentions" series is modeled after the second-series anime. That is, "Duel Monsters," the Studio Gallop production that started in 2000. Which would be why you don't see any references to Death-T, or Miho. I've done a bit of a balancing act with characterizations, but one of the biggest differences to be found there is in Yami. Those who've seen Season Zero, the shorter, weirder, and altogether more brutal Toei series from 1998, know what I mean.**_

_**So you might be wondering, "If he's using Duel Monsters, why isn't Yami different? Why isn't he a nice guy? Why is he using the twisted Death Note sadist again?" I think it fits better. The Yami from "The Gambler's Debts," "Cemetery Dance," and "Cult of the Dragon King" is my interpretation of the "real" Yami.**_

_**As to how he showed up here…well, you'll see.**_

_**See you next time.**_


	6. My Ice Grows Thin as I Get Older

_**It's often believed that Seto loosens up around his brother. But what does that really mean? What does it mean about his general personality? Just how different is he? And does that make the hard-ass he presents to the public eye a façade? Is he some kind of corporate Batman, and only Mokuba knows what Bruce Wayne looks like?**_

_**But then, Bruce Wayne is an act. So maybe that doesn't work.**_

_**In any case, I think the crux of Seto's relationship with his brother isn't that he changes his personality, or "loosens up," so much as he just…redirects his anger so that it hits elsewhere. He's still angry, and he's still sardonic. The reason it's not that bad for Mokuba is because it's not targeted at him.**_

_**This chapter attempts to illuminate what I mean.**_

* * *

"Niisama?"

Seto looked up at his brother but was slow on the proverbial draw; he remained silent just long enough for the black-haired boy to guess that something _was, _in fact, wrong. Every so often, when his brother was in a foul mood, Mokuba just chalked it up to the sun rising, or people breathing. Sometimes Seto was just plain pissed.

But sometimes, the source of Seto's mood was something more tangible. Something Important. And it was these that always caused Seto the most grief, because while Mokuba didn't _often _showcase the iron determination of the Kaiba family, he _did _have it. When the time came for Operation: Make Niisama Smile, Mokuba was as furiously unwavering as…well, a Kaiba.

And if Mokuba knew that there was a _source _to his scowl today, rather than it just being the neutral expression of his face, he would stop at nothing until the problem was unearthed, handled, and beaten into the dirt.

Seto could already picture his brother's face if he even tried to explain, however. What possible justification could there be to, "I'm starting to respect a man that used to make my soul vomit, and it pisses me the hell off"?

He would get the Mother look. And he just wasn't interested in seeing it today.

"What is it, kiddo?" he asked, wondering if the lightness of his tone would make up for the pause. The frown on Mokuba's face told him that that was highly unlikely. Nonetheless, it seemed to placate him a _little._

"Téa's home for a visit," the boy said, rather darkly. "She's stupid."

Seto gave one of his trademark smirks. "She believed the Fairbairn article."

"Of course she did. Why _wouldn't _she? She's _stupid."_

"I seem to recall a time not so long ago that you thought her rather nice. She had a nice voice, and a nice smile, and a nice…_other _things."

Mokuba blushed furiously. "Shut up!"

"The girl is a sheep. I'm not about to argue the point. But you still need to stop making eternal blood oaths to obliterate everyone who calls me a villain. Nurture relationships with those who think me a living saint instead. They're just as delusional, but they might be more pleasant."

"You think this is funny, don't you?"

"On a cosmic level, yes."

Mokuba pouted. For added effect, he crossed his arms and kicked at the carpet. Seto eventually rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet and walked over, ruffling his young sibling's hair and giving him a one-armed hug as he passed into the hallway. "Come on, then. Let's go find something shiny to distract you."

Mokuba snorted derisively, but he followed his brother. He said, "People are calling this the biggest news story of the year. They're saying you polarized the city."

"_People _are the ones who think I killed Pegasus Crawford and that his subsequent appearances in public, sparse as they've been, are me using Solid Vision to cover it up. _People_ are the ones who say I _built _you out of spare computer parts. _People_ are the ones who—"

"Okay, okay. I get it. People are dumb." Mokuba heaved a defeated sigh. "…Joey was defending you. He told the real story." Seto flinched violently, stopped walking. "She was crying. _He _was crying."

Seto straightened a mirror hanging on the wall to his left, then put it back, then straightened it again. He frowned thoughtfully. "Is that right…?" he murmured, clearly uninterested and making no attempt to fake otherwise.

"She was talking about how it would have been a lot better if Yami was still around. The spirit guy. The pharaoh."

"I remember him, Mokuba," Seto said. "The…spirit guy. Of course she would think of that. He was her answer to everything. Heaven forbid we solve our own damned problems when we have a king four-thousand years dead to do it for us. Atemhotep, I _need_ you! I just got home from the store, but I forgot sour _cream!_ How am I supposed to have tacos for dinner if you don't _help_ me?"

Mokuba sputtered with sudden laughter.

"…Sir?"

Seto watched as Clinton Lanyon approached, holding a bottle of glass cleaner and a dishtowel. The man was giving him an odd look, half-expectant. Eventually he seemed to realize that his employer was in no mood to explain the outburst, and walked away.

Seto heard him mutter to himself: "…just _got _sour cream. I _saw _it."

Mokuba doubled over, and fell onto the floor.

Seto turned his eyes to the ceiling, and tried to hold back a smile.


	7. Push Me and I'll Push Back

_**A new pair of characters come into the scene this time. Before you meet them, and before you wonder if they're yet again an example of my tendency to write caricatures in order to make a point (I feel like I've done that a few times throughout the course of this series of stories), I assure you that they are modeled almost precisely like a pair of people I know from my own life.**_

_**From my own family, in fact.**_

_**Once you read the chapter, I'm sure you'll be able to guess my feelings on that particular score.**_

_**Still, I hope you find it entertaining.**_

_**Let's see what happens, shall we?**_

* * *

"You're still letting that delinquent stay here, after how he treated Matthew?"

Enid Brinkley tried to keep her face neutral, and she was thankful at least that Gareth had the common decency to look chagrined as his "wife" spoke. Gareth was the black sheep of the Boulter family, and she'd long since come to terms with the fact that she no longer enjoyed her brother's company; she could almost say that she no longer loved him.

And most of that had come from the choices he'd made since meeting…

"I _asked _you a question, Enid!"

"I am refusing to dignify it with an answer," Enid replied smoothly. "You have been invited into my home, and I expect you to treat everyone under this roof with respect. That includes me, and it includes Mokuba. If you can't do that, leave."

"Don't get all high and mighty with me!" Nadine Kerns crowed. "You know well as I do, this is Leonard's house. _You _didn't pay for it."

"And _you _didn't pay for the _lovely _used Pontiac in the driveway," Enid said. "You still drive it, do you not? Leo may have bought this house, but I still live here. And I still expect you to refrain from insulting the people staying here."

"Oh, so nobody can insult _you _in this house, but some random rich _bastard _can come in and insult _my son _whenever he wants, is that it?"

"I may not approve of the way Mister Kaiba treated Matt," Enid said, "and I have asked that he refrain from that kind of behavior in the future. He has graciously complied. Your son, however, has not held up his end of the bargain."

"_Bargain?!" _Nadine looked like a bullfrog, the way air puffed into her cheeks in her fury. "That man _assaulted _my son!"

"Matthew assaulted his."

"He doesn't _have _a—"

"Word games might be a pleasant pastime," Enid cut in, "but I'm growing tired of them. Seto Kaiba is his brother's legal guardian. It is his _job _to take care of him. Matthew put himself into a very dangerous position, and I will not take responsibility for it. I have told him time and time again to respect my wishes; he refuses to listen. I suggest that you take him home, and teach him proper manners."

Gareth looked embarrassed. Nadine looked murderous.

The Brinkley home wasn't a large one. The living room, in which Enid was now engaging in such wondrous conversation with her extended family, was only separated from her son's bedroom by a short hallway and two walls. Considering the volume of his aunt's voice, Connor (and thus, Mokuba) had to be able to hear it.

Enid walked over to the small faux-leather couch that took up the majority of the north wall of the room and sat down. "If you would like tea or coffee, perhaps we can continue this conversation civilly. If not, then I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Enid," Gareth said, plaintively, sending such a withering glare at his wife that Nadine's mouth snapped shut. "I…I know we've made some mistakes with Matt. He's going through a lot, and…and we haven't really been helping him as much as we should. But…but you have to understand…we can't just let this go. A man came into your house and almost choked him to death. That's…that's…"

Enid didn't bother to argue that Seto Kaiba hadn't even come close to choking Matthew Kerns (for some reason Enid couldn't fathom, he preferred to go by his mother's name) to _death. _The thought crossed her mind that when Seto Kaiba wanted to kill someone…they died.

That argument was just as limp and stale as the ones Nadine was flinging at her, and Enid refused to sink to that level. She said instead, "I understand, Gareth, and I apologize. However, it is not Mokuba's fault that his brother chose to behave that way. The poor boy has no more control over his brother than anyone else. So as to the question, yes. I continue to allow Mokuba into this house. And I will continue to do so for the foreseeable future."

That Mokuba had no control over his big brother was so far beyond a lie that it felt slimy to say it.

"That's…fair. From what Matt tells us, though, Mokuba has been threatening him, using his brother as a…as a…kind of weapon."

_More like a shield, _Enid thought.

"Mokuba defends himself, and he defends his friends. Of which Connor is perhaps _the _one. Shall we bring up how Matthew has been treating _my _son, too? Or would you rather just save that conversation for another time? Shall I have him show you the bruises?" A dark, sharp look visited Enid's face, and Gareth quailed.

"They're _boys," _Nadine squawked.

"So, when Mokuba threatens Matthew, it's assault. But when Matthew threatens Connor, it's expected." Enid stood up, eyes blazing. "Get out. _Now._ I've heard enough, and judging by how _loud _you've been, I'm sure Connor has heard enough, as well. If you're going to ignore the way Matthew treats my son, _again, _then I'm done listening to anything you have to say."

"Enid—"

"_Out, _Gareth. Come back without her, and we'll see if we can resolve this."

"Don't you talk about me like that, you b—"

A knock came at the door, sharp and quick. Authoritative. Enid knew who it was almost before she heard it, and a certain dark part of her personality started giggling like a fool. She stepped aside and opened the front door.

Seto Kaiba stood on the porch, dressed in a tan suit with a black shirt and tie. He inclined his head. "Missus Brinkley," he said. "Mokuba has a meeting with our development team in an hour. I'd like him to get ready at home."

"Of course, Mister Kaiba," Enid said, stepping aside and gesturing for him to enter. "I'll go get him."

He stepped inside, and Enid noticed with some amount of satisfaction that he was blatantly ignoring the glare Nadine Kerns was leveling on him. His hands were in the pockets of his slacks, his stance was easy. He looked like nothing at all concerned him at the moment.

She entered the hall and walked down to her son's bedroom, where Connor and Mokuba were playing a videogame. Well, Connor was playing. Mokuba seemed to be coaching him. He was pointing to the screen, explaining various things about the game as if he were a private tutor, and Connor his student.

"Mokuba," Enid said, and the black-haired boy looked over.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Your brother's here, sweetie. He says you have a meeting."

Mokuba's eyes went wide and he pulled a cellular phone out of his pocket. "Oh! Sorry, Connor, I gotta go. Thanks, Missus Brinkley!" He shot out of the room and blazed past Enid like a certain body part were on fire.

Connor blinked. "…Whoa."

Enid smiled.


	8. To Know Actin' A Fool is the Vision

_**There was a general expression of dismay that I cut the last chapter off where I did, without having any sort of altercation between Seto and…ahem…Miss Kerns. The primary reason for that was a logistical one: to wit, the following. It's written from Connor's general point of view, and required a change in scene, or a complete rewrite, to work.**_

_**It would be safe to call this chapter and the previous one a two-shot, I think. Nonetheless, my chosen format required that this chapter go up the following week (today). I apologize for this; I know it wasn't exactly satisfying, the way I had the last one pan out.**_

_**I hope that this one makes up for that.**_

_**Enjoy.**_

_**Oh, one last thing. I got a review a little while ago, a guest review, asking about the order in which this series of stories should be read. Since I was unable to respond directly (guest review; i.e. anonymous), I thought I would mention it here, just in case anyone else wondered about that.**_

_**Newcomers to the "Good Intentions" series should start—if they are so inclined—with the titular project. The one without a subtitle. "Paved with Good Intentions" was first, and contains the basis of this version of the YGO world.**_

_**Next up, I would personally recommend "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes," the one-shot collection that has become…well, I'd say the definitive version of the project I originally set out to do. As mentioned before, chapter 35, "Be My Glory Ever," is the prologue leading into this project (the crossover spin-off event, if you like).**_

_**This one is third. It assumes knowledge of the previous two projects, and makes various callbacks to both. However, I think it's safe to read this one second, if BEVE doesn't strike your fancy.**_

_**But all things considered, I'd say the original project, at the least, is essential.**_

* * *

When Connor got to the living room, Mokuba was already standing next to his brother. His aunt Nadine was glaring at the younger Kaiba like he was some kind of fungus while the elder looked like coiled springs. Seto was ready to attack; his eyes were skittering around the room—not like he was panicked, but like his eyes were a security scanner—checking anything and everything. His fists were lying easy at his sides.

Uncle Gareth looked sheepish and nervous.

"Proud of yourself?" Aunt Nadine snapped at Mokuba. "Proud of your _attack_ dog, there?" She gestured spasmodically at Seto. Aunt Nadine always looked like she was on some kind of hyper drug. Mokuba raised a slow eyebrow at her, ignoring the sharp tone of Nadine's voice and looking like she'd just asked him the most innocent question ever.

He said, chipper and light, "Sure! Hi. My name's Mokuba. What's yours?" He held out a hand as if expecting Nadine to shake it. She stared blankly for a long moment, and Connor barely held back laughter.

Seto flashed his signature smirk before his face slipped back into a mask.

"I know who you are," Nadine said, crossing her arms haughtily over her chest.

"Are you guys family?" Mokuba asked innocently.

"Not _yours," _Nadine snapped. "What's your game, anyway? What, exactly, are you playing at?"

"Well, right now I'm trying to learn _Magic & Wizards," _the black-haired boy said, blissfully oblivious, "like Niisama. It's hard. Sometimes I play videogames, too. And I know you're not _my _family. That's silly. Niisama's my family." Mokuba took hold of his brother's hand and swung it back and forth. "I meant, are you Connor's family?"

"…I'm Matthew's mother. You remember _Matthew,_ don't you?"

Mokuba gave a dazzling little grin. "Oh! You're Matt's mom! Hi! Yeah, sure, I know Matt. He's _really_ nice. You know, last week? He was over, and we were playing checkers, Connor and me? Matt showed us a new way to play. What you do is, you knock the board on the floor and kick at the pieces. It was pretty fun. I'm not sure what the rules are, though."

Connor had to bite his lip to keep from bursting into a giggling fit.

Seto's face was stone now, but it was clear enough that he was pleased with his brother's performance. His eyes were practically glowing. Connor looked at his mother and found her fighting a smile. Mokuba was so blatantly polite, so syrupy, sickeningly _sweet,_ that it was actually hard to tell if he was being sincere or not. Uncle Gareth wasn't even bothering to fight it; a grin split his face. Aunt Nadine looked ready to explode.

"Now, you listen here, you little…!"

"But I _am _listening," Mokuba insisted, all wide-eyed and earnest. "Niisama always tells me I should listen to my elders. They know all kinds of stuff I don't. He says I can learn a lot from adults. I hope when I'm older, and I have a kid someday, his mom is like you. You know, you're really pretty."

This was such a lie that Connor nearly threw up. Nadine Kerns looked twenty years older than she was, the product of a "hard past," with matted hair and dark circles around her eyes, and a mouth so used to frowning that it made her face look like a canyon. Uncle Gareth let out a snicker.

"Do you think I'm _stupid?"_

"Why, _no."_

"I've had _just _about enough of you, you sniveling little _brat!" _Aunt Nadine snapped, and lifted her hand like she was going to smack Mokuba across the face. To "teach him respect," probably.

Mokuba didn't flinch, but Connor did.

Nadine's open hand didn't get even halfway up before Seto's arm snatched out like a coiled snake and _his_ hand clamped around her wrist like a vice. All traces of mirth had vanished from his face; he looked ready to kill.

Seto said, "...For the record, I do not make a habit of 'assaulting' people," with a voice like the devil, "and the fact that I have made this mistake twice in the same house, frankly, embarrasses me." Aunt Nadine struggled to take her hand back, snapping and snarling at him to let her go, but Seto looked like he was embedded in concrete for how much he was moving.

"You can't do this to me!"

"Is that so?" Seto whispered. "…Someone should stop me, then."

"Let me go! _Gareth! DO SOMETHING!"_

"Understand something, Nadine Kerns," Seto said, and his tone was so icy that it stopped her dead mid-rant. Uncle Gareth went stiff. "I may…or may not…have overreacted in regard to your son. If that is _true,_ then clearly we have something to discuss. And if you believe that my brother has _also_ mistreated your son, then I most assuredly want to hear about it."

Aunt Nadine stared, and her hand—still clutched in Seto's iron grip—went limp.

"_However," _the elder Kaiba brother continued, "I require that any concern that an _adult _has with my brother's behavior comes to _me. _I refuse to allow you, or any other parent—" he said the word "parent" with a slathering of condescension "—to bring their complaints to Mokuba directly. Too many times, this has led to disaster."

He finally let go of Aunt Nadine's wrist, and all but threw her backward.

"One more thing," Seto said as he turned to leave. Mokuba turned with him, still holding fast to his brother's hand. Aunt Nadine was massaging her injury—Connor wondered if it would bruise—and Uncle Gareth was shuddering. He dared to say, in a squeaky little voice:

"…Yes…s-sir?"

Seto's glare was harsher than summer sunlight on gunmetal.

"Do. Not. _Ever. _Touch him."

He opened the front door, and stalked out.


	9. It's a Twist, a Little Bit

_**Those of you who have read the past two chapters of "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes" will know that, after a month of hospital visits and unfortunately ineffectual medications and treatments, my grandmother died on the morning of August 11, 2012. She was only 69.**_

_**As I did then, I do now: this chapter, and everything else I post on this site from now on, is for her. She would want me to be strong, and keep doing what I love doing. She would want me to share my passion with the world. So that's what I'm doing. I hope that you will join me.**_

_**This chapter is building up to something, setting the stage for the eventual main plot. As I'm sure I've said before, there's a lot of groundwork to be laid for this story to work. Like "Cult of the Dragon King" before it, I'm taking a lot into consideration to ensure that the magic in this one follows the rules (or, at least, the spirit) of its source material.**_

_**I figure there's not much of a point, otherwise.**_

_**I hope that you enjoy this installment.**_

* * *

When Joey Wheeler saw Yugi the day after he'd finished the Millennium Puzzle, the first thought that crossed his mind was how _weird _it looked to see the puzzle back around his neck, on the same chain he'd used for years.

How weird…and how familiar.

Yugi didn't even bother to say anything as he sat down on the couch in the living room above the shop; he just sat, held the puzzle in his hands, and Joey watched as the eye in the center of it started to glow.

The strange golden light seemed to slip out from its source and kind of…envelop its host, until Yugi's features were entirely obscured, encapsulated by it. It all happened in the span of a second or two, but it seemed to happen in slow motion. Joey thought for one absurd moment that his eyes were malfunctioning, like they were some kind of camera or something.

When the glow was gone, so was Yugi.

The figure currently seated on the Mutous' couch was no one Joey had ever seen before. When he pictured Yami, or Atemhotep as he'd been called originally, Joey always saw the guy standing tall and proud against the wind, some kind of modern knight or something, sword and shield poised to strike at evil.

The Yami in front of him was entirely at ease, lounging almost lazily as if he belonged there. And maybe he did. But Joey couldn't help but think: _This ain't right._

Yami was looking at him, studying him, and a slow grin rose on his face.

Joey remembered that look, even though he'd never seen it on this particular face before. It was the look of a predator, the look of a man caught in the haze of raw, primal instinct.

Joey himself must look like this, he thought, just before a fight.

It was fucking creepy.

"Good afternoon, Joey," came the spirit's voice from Yugi's lips, smooth as liquid silk. "A true pleasure to see you again." Yami's wine-colored eyes were bright, almost visceral, and Joey found his muscles tightening. This wasn't right. Something was off. Something was _seriously _off.

"Uh…yeah. Sure thing, man. Been a while since I seen that thing 'round yer neck, there."

Yami lifted the puzzle and let it fall back against his chest. "Yes, I've not seen this particular artifact in some time. It surprises me to consider it." Somehow that sounded like a lie; for whatever reason, Joey felt like there wasn't a damn thing on earth that could surprise this guy. "It's also been unfortunately long since I've laid eyes on this place." He glanced around the room.

"Been about a year, I wanna say," Joey said, although now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember _how_ long it'd been since Yami's disappearance any more than he could remember being born. It felt like a lifetime ago.

"Yes…" Yami sounded distracted.

And just plain…_slick._

That was the only word that seemed to fit. His words were slick_._ His tongue was greased in oil. Everything he said had a smoothness to it, a fluid sound that made every word sound like a practiced lie.

Even the best politician couldn't match up to this, Joey mused.

"So Yugi was thinkin' you had something you had to do here," the blond offered after a while. The spirit looked at him blankly. "Anything we can do to help? Gotta save the world again? Keep evil at bay, save the girl, get the castle, all that?"

Yami raised an eyebrow. "Nothing quite so romantic, I'm afraid. No less vital, but the world is not at stake. Not this time. I am simply…paying a debt. I needed somewhere secure, somewhere defensible, and this was the first world I managed to unearth that would suffice."

"First…_world? _What're you, a fuckin' alien now?"

Yami shook his head, looking slightly irritated now. "Never mind. The complexities would be beyond you. Yes, I will require your help." He stood up. "However, at the moment I am still working through preliminary measures. When the ritual begins, I will require you."

"Ritual, huh?"

"Yes."

Joey was about to speak again when his phone rang. Frowning curiously, he fished the device out of his pocket and answered it. "Yo. 'S the wheelman. Talk to me."

"_Wheeler."_

"S'what they call me. What's up?"

"_I have managed to uncover the mystery surrounding Kerns's ineptitude."_

"And in English, that means you figured out why he's a douche."

"…_Yes."_

"So what's the mystery?"

"_His mother lacks a brain, and his father lacks a spine."_

"Switch 'em up, you got my family. So what, you met the dude's parents, then? Where? Trailer park? You sound more pissed off 'n usual."

"_I would not call it a meeting so much as an infestation. It seems they blame Mokuba and me for…well, for all I know, they blame us for Global Warming. I'm beyond caring at this point. I simply called to say that you would do well to be on guard. With his parents enabling him, he'll be emboldened. He'll be stupid. And that means he'll be reckless."_

"Got it. Thanks for the heads up. How'd the Moku-meister like 'em?"

Joey actually heard a chuckle in Kaiba's voice. _"He was…magnificent. I'm sure he'll tell you the story when next you meet. Until then, watch for Kerns."_

"Roger."

"_Thank you."_

He hung up, and Joey slipped his phone back into his pocket. Yami was watching him with something halfway between amusement and disbelief, tinged with a certain level of superstition. "Kaiba," Joey said. "Mokuba's been gettin' a bit o' heat from this…guy. Right? So Kaiba's got me 'n Tris kinda keepin' an eye on him."

For the first time, Yami looked like he was actually awake. His eyes narrowed, and he looked keenly interested. He said, "…And you accepted the order?"

"Order? Weren't an order. Guess it was kinda…unspoken, y'know?"

"So you are, without provocation, defending Mokuba Kaiba from…heat."

"Yeah. What? He's a buddy. S'whatcha do."

The more Yami heard, the more confused—and more intrigued—he seemed to get. His grin didn't look quite so creepy anymore. It looked _manic, _but not creepy. However that was possible. "This is…fascinating. You'll have to tell me about it later." It sounded much more like a command than a request. A feverish kind of command, like from a drug addict with a gun. "For now, I have certain…components I must collect."

"Components, huh?"

The spirit nodded. "A pleasure to see you again," he repeated, and edged past Joey toward the stairs. The blond turned to watch him go, and wondered if there was any conceivable way for this day to get any weirder.


	10. What Kind of Fan are You?

_**It's been ten weeks since this story began. Ten chapters. Come next week, I'm headed back to school for my last year of university. I'm looking forward to it, primarily because it will give me a chance to focus my mind. Lately, it's been wandering quite a bit. This typically happens around the end of the summer. I tend to get restless. Classes and assignments fix that, which might well be part of the reason I want to go into teaching.**_

_**This week, we visit some of my oldest-running OCs, and those of you who have read the rest of this series, as well as "Back from the Dead" and/or "Cult of the Dragon King" will recognize them immediately.**_

_**I figured it was time to delve a bit into the family dynamic. I have plans for further excursions in the future.**_

_**This time around, I thought I'd have an argument. Those tend to be fun.**_

_**Let's begin, shall we?**_

* * *

"Is this the part where I'm supposed to talk now?" Detective Darren McKinley muttered, raising an incredulous eyebrow and staring at his daughter as if he'd never seen her before. "This entire conversation is way over my head. I'd rather stay out of it."

Katie McKinley scowled, looking so much like her mother that Darren felt a shiver of superstitious fear, and glared at the woman standing next to her instead.

"Don't be thick, Daddy."

"I've already said far too much," Darren replied slowly. "I'm not about to get roped into it again. The entire debacle is over, and good riddance to it all. Now, can I move on with my day, please? I'd _hoped _to relax. I hear it's all the rage these days."

"Over?" echoed Katie's companion, whose name Darren did not know.

"Yes. _Over._ A pleasure to meet you, now if you'll excuse me—"

"Seto Kaiba committing _murder _isn't exactly the sort of thing I'd expect you to gloss over like this, sir. From what Katherine tells me, you're one of the _good _ones. So what? Is he paying you to keep quiet?"

"Don't insult me," Darren said sharply.

"Cris, cool it."

The woman, Cris, visibly calmed. "I'm not insulting you. I'm asking a question."

"You're leveling an accusation. One based on a lie. Now, excuse me. _Please. _I would _like _to _sit_ _down. _Thank you."

"Now, hold on a second—"

"Or _what?" _Darren snapped, finally deciding that he'd had it. His hazel eyes flashed. "What do you intend to do if I _don't _hold on a second? What do you intend to do if I _refuse _to answer your questions? Last time I checked, the polite thing to do is to _introduce _yourself when you meet someone. The polite thing to do is _respect _someone's desire to _enter his own home on his day off. _Did I miss a memo somewhere? Did I miss the part where convention says 'unless he happens to be friends with a man I don't like?'"

Katie blinked, looking surprised and almost frightened.

Cris was stunned.

"You want to talk about Seto Kaiba?" Darren demanded. "Find someone _else _who wants to talk about him. God only knows how many websites are devoted to the question of his innocence these days. Or, sorry, _guilt, _since you're apparently already convinced. Go talk to them. I'm sure they'll have plenty to say. I _don't."_

If he heard one more word about Siegfried von Schroeder, Darren thought he was liable to explode. The other side of the law was looking pretty damn sweet right about now, and he thought maybe that was a sign that he should take a vacation.

So many people had grilled him on his opinion about the city's latest scandal that he'd almost considered plastic surgery just to avoid being recognized. So far, though, no one had bothered him at home. Now, here someone was, and he'd had enough.

This was going to end. Now.

"…Jesus," she said haughtily. "Sorry if I'm _curious _why you—"

"Why I _what?"_ the detective cut her off, in a tone so low that _he _barely heard it. "Why I'm defending a murderer? Why I'm lying to everyone and sullying the reputation of the police department that hired me? Why Domino City refuses to acknowledge the truth and throw a noose around Seto Kaiba's neck? Why I don't do the world a favor and shoot the bastard myself? Why rich people get away with murder, why people are so blind to what _you_ see, why the world's unfair, why the government pisses on the people it's supposed to protect?"

His anger was gone, if it had been there to start with.

He was just…tired.

Katie cleared her throat and wiped her hands on her sweater, looking at anything and everything but the scene in front of her. Cris's gaze was locked on his.

"…You don't want the truth. You don't want answers. You want to be right. That isn't my problem. I don't care to indulge in your delusions. You won't listen to what I have to say, anyway. You're just waiting for me to shut up. So, I will."

He turned away, ignoring Cris as she began to talk, opened the door to his home, stepped inside.

"Good. Bye."

He slammed the door behind him.

Katie came inside a few minutes later and immediately set upon her father a look fit to freeze acid. "Jeez, Dad. I know she wasn't especially tactful, but think you could have maybe pulled the stick out a _foot _or so?"

Darren could always tell when his daughter was irritated with him; she called him "Dad." Where most girls grew out of the "Daddy" phase at some point during…well, at _some_ point, Katie never had. Except when she wanted to prove a point. The detective figured that if she ever called him "Father," he should start preparing for death.

Grace Jennifer McKinley wasn't the sort of woman who approved of foul language by any standard, and so she gave her daughter a sharp, searching look. Katie stared right back, as if to say: _There's a point this time. _Darren wondered sometimes if the static between those two would eventually cause an explosion of some kind; if the friction would start a fire. He'd long since decided that before it ever happened, he intended to be three states away.

"I'm not going to apologize for him anymore," Darren replied, and Jen (she hated her first name and liked to pretend that it didn't exist) seemed to calm down. _Oh,_ she likely thought. _It's about the Kaibas. No wonder._ She went back to reading the book she'd placed on her lap when the door opened.

"I get you're on Team Kaiba." Katie muttered, taking a breath. "Me, too. I'm the freaking captain. But seriously, Dad? I mean, _really? _You're the one who always told me, 'Nothing sets the enemy off like smiling at them.' Where was the smile?"

"She has a point," Jen put in.

"So do I," Darren said, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling. "God only knows how many times I'm going to talk about this. I'm sick and tired of telling people I have nothing to say about von Schroeder. I'm tired of listening to people call Seto a murderer, call _us _corrupt and spineless, call Mokuba an up-and-coming con artist or…whatever else they're saying now."

"…She's part of the team, you know. For the website." Katie raised an eyebrow. "Renie brought her on as a 'devil's advocate' sort of deal. To show that we're not just brainless fan-zombies. I don't like her any more than you do, but it wouldn't have killed you to be nice, if for no better reason than to prove a point."

"It wouldn't have killed her to have a brain so she could _see _the point I was making."

"Darren."

"No. I'm done. I'm just…done. Maybe other people want to wax poetic on Seto's guilt or innocence. I don't. I was there. I saw more than enough, and I don't want to keep living through it." He looked over at Katie with a suddenly pained look, and she blinked, surprised.

He took a moment to compose himself before saying anything else.

A moment that dragged on for an eternity.

"…If Seto had been there…the night Zac died." The temperature of the room dropped to freezing. "If he'd seen it…if he'd been standing right there with me when it happened. And people called _me _a murderer. He wouldn't say anything to anyone about it."

_More as like for the best, _he thought. _Seto would probably agree with them._

"Of course he wouldn't," Katie said, with a conviction that told Darren she _did _understand. Not like the rest of them. Not like most of her peers, who doted on Seto and Mokuba purely for the rich-cute paradigm.

"He would, and does, expect the same courtesy from me."


	11. I Thought I Knew Him All Too Well

_**I know it's taking a long time for me to get to the point with this project. Pretty soon, I'll have enough of a buffer to start posting multiple times per week. Trust me; if you're anything like me, the buildup will be worth it. I have big, far-reaching plans for this project, and I'm confident that it will be a lot of fun.**_

_**This chapter begins to explain just where Yami came back from; and why he's acting so strangely.**_

* * *

The whole gang of the world's Eternal Saviors (all three of them) sat in Yugi Mutou's living room waiting for whatever meeting had been called to begin. Joey had already warned the others that Yami didn't feel right, that he wasn't the same, that something about him was just plain creepy, but he knew that they wouldn't understand what he was talking about until they saw him firsthand. Until they looked into the spirit's burgundy eyes and saw that gleam of almost malicious amusement, they wouldn't get it at all.

In spite of the fact that Joey would have figured Téa to be the most adamant about seeing the ancient king again, he'd found that it took some convincing to get her to show up, and he started to get the same feeling that Yugi had had when he'd first mentioned the Millennium Puzzle: she didn't feel like she deserved to be here.

She was sitting on the couch right now, watching the television in front of her but not really seeing it, and Joey wondered how long it would take her to remember where she was. Joey shared a look with Tristan, who seemed content with the silence. While they all waited for Yugi, Joey's thoughts spun around what Yami had told him.

Joey wondered what kind of ritual Yami planned to conduct; he wondered what debt Yami was paying. He wondered why the spirit of the Puzzle seemed so enamored of Kaiba. Joey couldn't remember Yami ever feeling anything toward the CEO of Kaiba-Corp besides grudging respect, but this guy seemed positively _fascinated _by the man. Joey wondered why Yami hadn't asked for the young executive to be here, then thought maybe he knew better; Kaiba wouldn't show. On checking his watch, Joey was positive that Mokuba would be out of school by now, and considered calling the younger Kaiba and inviting _him_ over, but then caught a glimpse of Téa and nixed the idea immediately. Mokuba wouldn't show, either.

Yugi stepped into the room.

They all watched as he sauntered over, and Joey immediately recognized the predatory look on his friend's face; Yami was in control. There was an inkling of a smirk on his face. His hands were in his pockets. He wore the same uniform they'd all—save Téa—worn to Domino High School, even though Yugi had stopped attending Domino High School over a year ago. Joey wondered if it'd been Yugi or Yami who'd been feeling nostalgic.

"Welcome," the spirit said, his velvet voice washing over them. Téa went stiff, and Tristan blinked. It didn't even _sound_ like the Yami they remembered. The voice was deep, and commanding; and yes, _that_ was the same. But that slick sound was still there, and it made all the difference in the world. "Gods be blessed and beneficent, but I never thought to see you all again."

How much more of a liar could this guy be?

This was _not _Yami.

Tristan and Téa both seemed to know this as well, because they were sharing concerned, superstitious looks. They glanced at Joey next, who simply shrugged; _What're ya gonna do?_

"You must be wondering who I am," Yami said with a knowing grin. "I know that Yugi has been quite perplexed as to the nature of my existence." He sounded more and more amused with each word. "The truth of the matter is, you are right. I am most assuredly _not _the man you know. I _am, _however, Yami. Atemhotep, if you like."

"So…wait." Tristan stared. "You're Yami…but you're _not _Yami."

"Paradoxical as it sounds, yes." He smirked and looked away for a moment. He seemed to be searching for something. "I could explain it, but I doubt you would believe me. Suffice it to say that my memories of the past few years more than likely do not match up with yours."

"So what, you're here from another corner of the multi-verse?" Tristan asked.

Yami shrugged. "More or less."

"…Why _here?" _Téa wondered. "Why _us?"_

Yami winked. "Curiosity. Pragmatism. Results. What small glimpses I've had of the most recent months tells me that my specific plans will be better carried out here, rather than home. You'll understand in time, I daresay. For now…let us say that I am simply interested in you all, and how your experiences differ from my own. Trust me…they do." He sat down next to Téa, crossed one leg over the other. "Why not start with the event that has our dear Miss Gardner so thoroughly uncomfortable?" he asked, _almost _innocently. "I'm curious as to the nature of your relationship with the Kaiba family."

Joey raised an eyebrow. Téa flinched violently.

Tristan cleared his throat. "That's…prob'ly gonna take a while."

"We have plenty of time. Tell me."

So, they told him. And with just about every revelation he received, Yami grew more and more engaged in the conversation, until it seemed like he would actually explode for sheer excitement. They told him about the day they'd met Kaiba, right after Solomon Mutou had shown them his ultra-rare Blue-Eyes White Dragon. The teenage CEO had stormed into the shop like a walking hurricane, throwing a briefcase full of cards onto the front counter and offering a trade.

"Gramps said no, 'course," Joey said.

"I am sure, then, that Kaiba offered to buy it outright," Yami guessed.

"Yup. _Carte blanche. _Naturally, Gramps said no to that, too. Said he'd gotten the card from a friend o' his. Professor Hawkins, from back in the ol' days when they were archaeologists. Dunno where _Hawkins_ got it, but…well, he told Kaiba there wasn't a damn thing he'd give it up for."

"But then, Kaiba isn't the kind of guy who takes too kindly to the word 'no,'" Tristan put in.

Yami smirked. He seemed to have been anticipating this leg of the story. He made a gesture with his hand as if to say, "Go on, please." So they told him about one of Kaiba's guys—his butler, probably—coming to the shop and "insisting" that Solomon play against Kaiba in a game of _Magic & Wizards _for the card. At this point, Yami asked: "A private game?"

"Yeah."

He seemed surprised, but said nothing more.

"So when Yugi gets home, Kaiba calls." Joey glanced over to the phone on one wall of the living room, next to the stairs. "Said Gramps wasn't 'feeling very well.' Yugi should come on over and pick him up. Well, we show up at KC's main building, and turns out the old guy had a frickin' heart attack."

Yami's eyes narrowed. "Is that so…?"

"So Kaiba shows up," Tristan took over, "lookin' all superior, and he shows off the Blue-Eyes. Says he won it off Solomon, and so he's got the right to do _this, _and he up and rips the card in half. Says now, nobody's gonna use it against him."

Keen interest returned. "And what happened next?"

"Mister Mutou gave Yugi his deck," Téa said, "and Yugi challenged Kaiba next. He summoned Exodia. It was the first time anybody had ever beaten Kaiba. Ever. And it was…well, I guess it was _you."_

Yami leaned back and mulled this over. "And this was our first match?" he asked after a while. "The first time Kaiba and I faced each other in the arena, Exodia was the deciding move."

"Well, yes. That's how you beat him."

"Mokuba'd just about shoot my ass if I didn't mention," Joey said, "Kaiba paid for the hospital visit. For Gramps, I mean. Kid says Kaiba was in a 'bad place' back then. Don't think I wanna know what that means. When Kaiba's in a _good _place, he's still pretty pissy."

"Did he, now?" Yami's eyes widened slightly. "And what _about _little Mokuba? Where was he, during this match?"

"Watchin' from the sidelines, same as us," Joey said. "Didn't really notice 'im at the time, but I'm guessin' the kid was pretty messed up, watchin' his brother lose. Prob'ly woulda looked the same if we'd killed his puppy." The blond blinked. "Don't know if he's ever had any pets, actually. Huh. He should get a puppy. A big one." He grinned at Tristan. "Back up for when Kernsy gets too cocky."

Tristan chuckled. "That'd be pretty funny, actually. Watching him get chased around the block by a golden retriever or something."

"You all seem rather fond of the youngling," Yami noted.

"Mokuba?" Téa asked. "He's a sweetheart."

"Born charmer, that kid," Tristan said. "Makes ya wonder where Kaiba got his prick gene from. Never really had anything against Mokuba, really. Once he opened up a bit, started actually talkin' to us…he's cool."

Yami looked at Joey. "And you, Joey? What would be _your_ opinion?"

"Good kid," Joey said, and there was more to his voice than readily noticeable. "He'll go places. Like _that's_ a shock."

"He…socializes with you?" Yami asked.

"Uh…yeah?" Joey raised an eyebrow. "What, he don't where you come from?"

"Not particularly, no. Not with _us." _The spirit frowned, rubbing his chin. "So…he's never been angry with you?" Téa flinched at this. "Never tried to manipulate you? Never challenged you to a competition of any kind?"

"Well, once," Tristan said, "out at Duelist Kingdom, he challenged you to a duel. Trying t' keep Pegasus from takin' over KC. Other'n that, no."

"If by manipulate, ya mean guilt-trippin' us into doing anything he damn well wants, sure," Joey offered. "That kid could get anything outta anybody."

"And you see this as…a good thing?"

"Well, it ain't _bad." _Joey looked surprised by the question. "Sometimes he can get kinda weird. Y'know, when the subject's his brother. Gets real protective. But that's no frickin' surprise. Hell, Serenity was like that, when we were little. Kid's pretty much golden. No complaints from me."

Yami stood up, walked over to the other side of the room, and he said, "…Fascinating."

"He's the opposite of his brother," Téa said, haunted. "You have to earn Kaiba's trust. You have to earn his respect. Like _you _did. But Mokuba…Mokuba trusts everybody. He respects everybody. Until they betray him."

Yami turned.

"He'll calm down," Joey said, placating. "Don't beat yourself up so much about it. Truth be told, I'm bettin' Kaiba's gonna want him t' apologize. Guy don't care what people think about 'im. Hell, he prob'ly thinks that article's kinda funny. He won't like hearin' how Mokuba blew up atcha."

"…He won't?" Yami echoed.

Joey looked at the ancient king and smirked knowingly. "Nah. I don't think so. Kaiba's big on the social image deal. I don't mean like, he puts on a show. But he keeps a poker face on, y'know? He don't make a big deal outta public opinion. Not anymore, anyways."

A surprised kind of smile rose on Yami's lips. "I think…I've made the right choice, after all. This is _enthralling. _Tell me, then…did Mokuba ever have a gang? A group of children who followed his commands?"

Joey flinched as if affronted by the question. "What? No. I know gang people; Mokuba ain't gang people. Last gang tried to recruit him, he spit 'n their faces. Kid's got two friends, maybe five if we count."

"And Kaiba did not steal the Blue-Eyes? He won it fairly?"

"Fairly? I dunno 'bout _fairly."_

"But he did not steal it."

"No. Kaiba's a lotta things, but he ain't a thief."

Yami's eyes were falling out of their sockets. His grin threatened to split his face. "I must meet this creature and its progeny of whom you speak so highly."

"Don't get us wrong, man. Kaiba's a dick."

Yami chuckled. Foreign, forbidden knowledge shone in his wine-colored eyes. "From what you've told me…I have a hard time believing that."

* * *

_**I'm sure that I've mentioned before that the "Paved with Good Intentions" series is based on the Duel Monsters anime. I take certain things from the original manga, like the title for the card game (just because I like "Magic & Wizards" so much better), but the characters and their personal histories and psychologies are taken from the second-series anime.**_

_**So why, you might have been wondering, is Yami so off-the-wall creepy?**_

_**Because he comes from the manga's universe. I originally based this characterization on a few things. His general personality came from volumes 1 and 2 of the original story (the black volumes, let's call them; they had black spines); his rivalry with Seto has quite a bit of a Death Note vibe to it, at least for me. A few other things have since become defining, but he's fundamentally built from the manga. So for this story, I decided to lift him directly from there.**_

_**As Tristan mentioned…think of it like the alternate universe scenarios from various DC and Marvel comics series. It's something very similar to that.**_


	12. Stressin' Your Brothers

_**When you have a best friend, their opinion of you really matters. That's kind of the whole idea. You might have friends or acquaintances, and you get along just fine, and it's great to hang around with them, but maybe at the end of the day their general opinion of how you act and how you handle situations doesn't affect you very much.**_

_**Take Mokuba as an example, if you will. He's got him some friends. Yugi, and Joey, and all that. And it's great to hang around with them. But does Mokuba really take much stock in how they think of him? Does he change his behavior for them? Probably not.**_

_**The mark of a "best friend," if such a thing honestly exists in an objective sense, is that you want them to be proud of you. You want them to think well of you. They become a part of your family.**_

_**I've been talking about how Mokuba and Connor are best friends, kind of leading things in that direction and all, but I haven't really explored it all that much.**_

_**So…I wrote this.**_

* * *

Connor Brinkley had met Mokuba's other friends; Tristan Taylor and Joey Wheeler. At first he'd been intimidated. They were Adults, younger than his parents but older than his cousin Matt, and Connor was still at the age where Adults were an entirely removed institution. Kids didn't socialize with them, they didn't socialize with Kids. That's just how things worked.

But then, Mokuba didn't care about stuff like that.

As it turned out, Tristan and Joey were good guys. What had seemed scary at first was funny to him now, and Connor looked forward to those days when he got to hang out with them. Today, they were at the mall, talking about their other friend, Téa Gardner, and Mokuba seemed to be trying his level best to care.

And failing.

"…Not sayin' I agree either way anymore, man," Joey was saying. "Seriously. But still, ya gotta admit the guy don't make that good an impression. Hell, neither do I. Took her damn near forever to warm up to me. She _still _gives me this look sometimes like she wants to skin me alive."

"Everybody gives you that look," Tristan said.

"Your _mom _gives me that look."

"So, not giving a good impression makes my Niisama a murderer?" Mokuba asked sharply.

"No," Joey said, holding up his hands, "but it means it don't surprise her that somebody'd say that. So when she saw the article, she didn't question it. She ain't been in the city for over a year, man. If she'd been here, she'da known the truth."

"People don't question stuff they think might be true," Tristan added, taking a sip of soda and leaning back in his chair. "Ya gotta remember, Mokuba, most people don't see the side o' Kaiba you do. He does that on purpose."

Connor thought they had a point, but he hadn't tried to bring it up because he didn't really think he knew Seto Kaiba well enough to say it. Plus…he wasn't ashamed to admit that he was afraid of Mokuba when he got like this. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he talked, that made him…dangerous.

Mokuba was younger than Connor by a few months, but you never would have known that. Mokuba had been through more terror and tragedy than Connor thought (secretly _hoped) _he ever would. The worst that had ever happened to Connor was that time he'd gone camping, fallen off a boulder and broken his leg.

Mokuba…

Well, Mokuba never even talked about the things _he'd _been through, which told Connor more than he ever needed to know. Mokuba just got this haunted look on his face, like he wasn't even there anymore, and…

Maybe this was why Mokuba's friends were so much older than he was.

They were the only sort of people who could relate to him.

"…Doesn't writing her off like this just make her right?" Connor dared to ask, and the other three stared at him, like they'd just realized he was still there. "I mean…if you don't give her a chance to say sorry…doesn't that just make her feel justified? Won't she just…hate him more?"

The silence that followed made him want to bolt for the exit.

Joey frowned thoughtfully. "…I dunno if it's safe to say Téa _hates _anybody. She just…don't approve. But…you might have a point, there, con man. Just…think about it. Mokuba, don't you kinda take it on yourself to convince people Kaiba ain't so bad? Ya convinced _us. _Sort of. Think of Téa as just another project. You know she's not a bad person. She's just…uninformed."

Mokuba still didn't look convinced, but his demeanor had shifted (subtly) from determined and angry to offended and sulky. He crossed his arms and leaned back, pouting. "…Fine. I'll…apologize. Or something. Whatever." He glared at Connor, who thankfully knew the younger Kaiba well enough to know when he was faking. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"…The side of…right?"

The table erupted with laughter.

"You're all right, man," Joey said, clapping Connor on the shoulder.

"I like this one," Tristan put in.

In the back of his mind, Connor wondered if crying hysterically and wetting himself would ruin the moment.


	13. Narcissistic, Hard to Grip It

_**This one is a bit late, and I apologize for that. I also apologize because this chapter is a bit short for my tastes. But I do think that it fleshes out one of the more important relationships in this particular story.**_

_**More than likely, I will begin posting more than once a week pretty soon. I just need to get into the right groove. In the meantime, I hope that you will treat this story something like a weekly soap opera. Even if nothing really happens, I hope that it's entertaining enough that it doesn't really matter.**_

_**On that note, shall we begin?**_

* * *

"I'm hurt, Kaiba. You don't recognize me?"

A short eternity ago, when Seto had still bothered with the professional dueling circuit, he had faced this man in the arena. He had anticipated facing this man in the arena, of _beating _this man into the dirt of the arena.

Yugi Mutou remained the single man to have ever earned Seto Kaiba's respect as a gamer. He had known for some time that a transformation took place when Yugi stepped into a competition. His friends contended that it was magical; Seto had never had any reason to believe it wasn't purely psychological.

He knew about Yami. The "spirit" that took over Yugi's body.

This was not Yami, yet neither was it Yugi.

"If I did, I wouldn't have wasted time and breath on the question," Seto muttered. "Now, I will reiterate: who are you, _what _are you, and what do you want?"

The smirk on Yugi's face reminded Seto none too comfortably of himself. "If I thought you would believe me, I would have given you a straight answer the first time. I am seeking the answer to a particular question, and I hope to glean that answer from you."

"The typical course of action would be to _ask the question."_

"I am anything but typical," Yugi replied.

"I'm not sure if you've grown a spine or lost a brain," Seto said, "but either way, you're fast becoming irritating." Yugi grinned, chuckled a little. "If there is _any _inkling of a point to this social square-dance of yours, tell me. If not, I'm leaving."

Yugi's grin widened; he showed his teeth. "Just a few questions for you, then. It won't be but a minute. Are you aware of your brother's apparent…feud, shall we call it, with Miss Gardner?"

Seto scowled. "I am aware that he is less than impressed with her."

"Does this surprise you?"

"No."

"Do you feel that Mokuba is justified in the way he has been treating her?"

"No more than Gardner is justified in believing the tripe that got Mokuba upset in the first place. Understand, Mutou, that I don't have the time or the inclination to care about your cheerleader's feelings, about me or anything to do with me. If she has a problem with how my _brother _has been behaving, then tell her to come to me directly."

"You would listen to her then?"

"I would. I cannot guarantee that I would _act _on anything she told me, but I would listen. Her feelings do not interest me. Mokuba's conduct, on the other hand, does."

Yugi looked feverish, almost hungry, and Seto found himself oddly nervous under the scrutiny of those blood-colored eyes. His hand twitched spasmodically for the gun at his right hip. "What do you think about the youngling socializing with Tristan and Joseph?"

_Joseph? _Seto thought, filing the use of the blond's full name in the back of his mind for later consideration. He said, "Very little. They protect him, support him, entertain him. He provides the same to them, in whatever capacity he can."

"You…approve?"

"If I did not approve, then it would not happen."

"You believe that Mokuba is so loyal as to obey you without questioning you?"

"No, but I believe him to be respectful enough to obey me _after _questioning me."

"Hmmm…" Yugi rubbed his chin. He stayed that way for nearly thirty seconds before nodding suddenly, as if he'd just decided something. "Very well, then. Thank you, Kaiba. My curiosity is assuaged for the moment." He turned away, and lifted a hand in a species of wave as he began to walk. "A pleasure to see you again. It's been too long."

Seto watched his rival leave, wondering what the holy hell had just happened, and why he suddenly felt like he needed a shower.


	14. Try Denyin' Me

_**I tried to make it as clear as possible in the last chapter why Yami was acting weird. I believe that I succeeded, but based on the last review I received for this project, there's still some confusion. The Yami in this project is not the Yami from the anime. He's from another version of the same world (specific to the original manga); basically, he's from an alternate dimension.**_

_**It will become clearer as the story goes on why I've chosen to do this. There are a number of reasons for this, and they go beyond, "Wouldn't it be cool?"**_

* * *

"You look happy."

Yami looked over at his host as he danced a silver coin through the fingers of his right hand. He smirked, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight cast in through the window. He hopped off the desk where he'd been perched. "Perhaps I am," he said. "What is required has been gathered. The ritual shall be completed, and my work will begin."

"Will this involve a game of any kind?" Yugi asked.

The spirit raised an eyebrow. "That would depend on your definition of a game. By _my _reckoning? Yes. Several. The common convention would disagree rather vehemently."

"The Yami I know didn't smile half as much as you do," Yugi noted.

"It sounds as though he was not as…at peace with his existence as I am." Yami winked. "I am a vessel for _mayet. _I speak with her voice, I act with her mind. I strike with her hand."

"Yami never used to talk about the gods. I sometimes thought he didn't believe in them."

"People think the gods require worship. That they require acknowledgment." Yami's translucent face hardened. "The gods need nothing. We are their instruments, and whether we know or acknowledge the hand that holds us does not diminish the strength of its grip on us. Those few who have the courage to face that can…find a certain satisfaction in the knowledge, if they look deeply enough."

"Like you?"

Yami laughed, and that seemed to be his answer.

He flicked his coin into the air, and it seemed to disappear.

"Does this ritual of yours have to do with Kaiba?" Yugi asked, after he'd given up looking for the coin. Yami looked somewhat surprised by this question, but not displeased.

He said, "In a manner of speaking, certainly."

"My Yami didn't talk in riddles so much," Yugi said.

Another chuckle. "He sounds boring."

Yugi's excitement over seeing his partner again had largely faded into sheer confusion. Yami still wouldn't explain just who he was, or where he'd come from. The most he would offer in the form of an explanation so far was, "It sounds to me like the difference is simple: your Yami did not remember his days as a king; I do." Yugi hadn't been sure he believed that, and had mentioned that the Yami he knew had seemed much more…kingly. This Yami had said, "That only proves my point."

The past few days had been an exercise in mental futility. Yugi couldn't figure out anything about the spirit who now shared his body. He hadn't managed to unravel a single one of the man's statements so far. He couldn't tell when Yami was lying and when he was telling the truth.

If he _ever _told the truth.

"Are you going to need anything from us?" Yugi asked.

"I will," Yami replied, in the same flat, no-nonsense tone he'd used that first day, when Yugi had mentioned his grandfather taking a trip to Egypt. It was the voice of someone who refused argument; it was the voice of a king.

The voice of a higher power.

"…What is it?"

Yami's eyes were sharp, with no traces of amusement. "When the time comes, you will know. I trust that you will answer the call of _mayet_ when it comes to you, _Aibou. _I have…faith in you."

Somehow, it sounded less like a vote of confidence and more like a threat.

Yugi realized that it didn't matter which one it was. If the former, then he had no choice but to do as asked, because this was Yami—the second half of his soul—and he wouldn't have been able to deny him anything.

And if it was the latter…

Yugi Mutou had no desire to cross a god.

* * *

_**"Mayet" is an alternative spelling for "ma'at" or "maat," the Ancient Egyptian concept/goddess of justice and order. **_


	15. Not Too Many Knew That it was a Lie

_**A bit longer this time around, because I have something a little more substantial to present to you. Come to think of it, actually, we're inching up on one of the major plot points for the entire project. As mentioned in the previous chapter, Yami's finished gathering the resources he needs to conduct his ritual, and these next couple of chapters will be bringing everyone together.**_

_**I consider each project in the "Paved with Good Intentions" series to be parts of a cohesive whole. "Lean on Your Pride" and "Origin of the Species," the two major story arcs that make up the first story, have laid down the groundwork for this version of the YGO universe.**_

_**The snapshots collected in "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes" add spice and decoration, filling in gaps and catching glimpses of behind-the-scenes stuff that haven't made it into the core story.**_

_**This project is a filler arc, if you like, which presents a rather gigantic "what-if" scenario. I suppose you could say that this is a fanfiction piece for my own series. Odd when it's put that way, I know.**_

_**In any case, throughout the course of creating these three stories since 2008 (it's been 4 years, folks), I have posted 92 chapters. This one marks the 93**__**rd**__**.**_

_**We're inching up on 100, and trust me when I say that something big, something very big, will be happening with that chapter.**_

_**Stay tuned, and enjoy the ride.**_

* * *

"Oh. Hi, Mokuba."

Yugi couldn't quite hide the nervousness in his tone. Téa was staying at the shop for the length of her visit, and she'd just stepped out for lunch as the young Kaiba entered.

Yugi wondered if they had crossed paths.

"Hey, Yugi," the black-haired boy gave a little wave and a nervous smile. "How, uh…how's it going?" He looked entirely out of his element, which should have been expected for a normal eleven-year-old boy talking to an adult (even one as unassuming as Yugi). For Mokuba, it was thoroughly bizarre. For all the keynote differences between Mokuba and his brother, he _was _a Kaiba, and to see him like this seemed almost like a travesty.

_Perhaps he's been reprimanded by his beloved Niisama, _came Yami's voice from behind Yugi's ears. _He looks shamed._

Yugi considered this, and realized after a moment that the king was right. Mokuba looked ashamed of something; the kind of shame that only came from the disapproval of someone whose opinion _really _mattered to him.

Kaiba seemed the only likely candidate.

"Is, uh…is Téa around?"

"Not right now," Yugi said, offering a smile. "She should be back soon."

"Can I…wait for her?" The boy gestured to the card table and folding chairs set in one corner of the shop.

"Sure," Yugi made a welcoming gesture. His smile widened.

Mokuba sat down, reached around to the backpack slung over his left shoulder, and pulled out a book. Yugi saw what looked like a hieroglyph on the front cover, and felt a shiver of superstition at the coincidence.

Yami chuckled, again behind his ears.

_Coincidence is a word that's never entered into my vocabulary, Aibou._

Yugi busied himself by wiping down the counter, sweeping the floors, and answering the phone, leaving Mokuba to his own devices, figuring that talking would only make the boy feel worse. He clearly wasn't engaged in what he was reading; he was using the book as a front to cover the fact that he didn't want to be here.

When Téa stepped into the shop, she was in the middle of talking about the _amazing _soup she'd had as an appetizer—her entire being froze. Mokuba turned around, closed his book, slipped it into his bag, and stood up. All in slow motion, as if his blood had turned to molasses. He didn't stare at the floor; rather, he looked the dancer in the eye. His eyes were blank, flat, the look of someone awaiting the chopping block.

Téa looked…terrified.

The young Kaiba drew in a deep, steadying breath, and bowed.

"I'm so sorry!"

Stunned silence echoed like a gunshot. Even Yami was quiet. For her part, Téa couldn't come up with a single sound, much less words. Yugi was somewhat surprised to admit that he heard clear sincerity in Mokuba's voice. Unlike most children, who only apologized when forced, and who only seemed ashamed of having been punished for something, Mokuba's remorse was honest.

When he looked up, tentatively at first, the blank façade had left his eyes, showing a shimmer of almost-tears that seemed able to physically wound. Téa flinched. Yami was chuckling again.

He said, _Well played, little one._

"I had no right to treat you like that," Mokuba said, softly. His voice was steady, but only barely. "I…forgot that you didn't really…have any reason to…well, believe better. Niisama doesn't care about his reputation. I saw that article and just…lost it. I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at…_them." _Téa blinked owlishly, and didn't speak. "I mean, I _was _angry at you, but…" Mokuba wiped his hands on his jeans and took a moment to breathe again. He started over: "I _was _angry at you, but that didn't give me the right to treat you like a criminal. I…hope you can forgive me."

_Kaiba didn't tell him to do this, _Yami mused.

Yugi blinked. What?

_He would look far guiltier if he'd been put up to this by his brother. No one _told_ him to do this…not directly. He came to this decision himself. An authentic apology can only come from personal reflection._

"But…who?" Yugi murmured under his breath. Neither Téa nor Mokuba heard him. "How? You didn't see him, Yami. He was…_livid. _If he'd had a weapon…"

_If I had to guess, it would have come from a peer. Someone to whom he would listen, but not someone who inspires fear. Kaiba is an authority figure. Kaiba is _the _authority figure. An apology at Kaiba's order would have been forceful. Direct. He would have bared his neck for the axe without explanation or hesitation. It would have to be someone he isn't intimidated by._

"…Joey?"

_No. At Joseph's command, he would have sounded sheepish. Pitiful. Not the slightest bit sincere. Joseph, for all his loyalty, presents a threat. A farfetched threat, but a threat nonetheless. This came from a source that the boy doesn't fear. Only a loved one could have made him reflect like this, but only a particular sort would have been so unassuming as to coax out this level of honesty._

"…Where did _this _come from? Did you get a degree in psychology while I wasn't looking?"

_What do you think I do in here, Aibou? Stare at the wall? I have lived, in one fashion or another, for 4,557 years. Humanity hides no secrets from me._

"You…you really _do _remember everything…don't you?"

_I do._

During this exchange, Mokuba and Téa stared at each other; the smile that eventually rose on Téa's face was one part shame, one part relief, and one part…

_Confidence._

"What?"

_That Mokuba would do this only proves to her that she was right…partly. A part of her, an admittedly small part, knows that Kaiba would never come to her with an apology for _his _conduct. Some amount of equilibrium has returned. Mokuba would doubtlessly find this offensive, but he has done her a service. He has proven, in his own way, that his brother remains reprehensible._

"That's…screwed up."

_Isn't it?_

The spirit sounded thoroughly entertained.

"Of course," Téa said, and Mokuba relaxed. "But only if you can forgive me. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions like that, and…and after hearing what really happened…I mean…"

_All part of the dance._

"You don't think she's being honest, do you?"

_Of course not. She never _has _been honest about her feelings…not to anyone, even herself._

"Did you say something, Yugi?" Téa asked.

Yugi blinked. "What? No. Nothing. Just mumbling to myself, never mind."

"So…do you like New York?" Mokuba asked.

Téa glanced at the boy. His face was open, the beginnings of a smile on his lips, and everything about him said: _I'm interested in you. _Téa launched into an over-enthusiastic narrative of her travels, and Mokuba's entire being exuded polite, patient attention. Yami didn't just chuckle this time. He threw his head back and howled.

Yugi gave a spasm of surprise that felt like a seizure.

_I love this place!_


	16. Why is this Game so Scary to Play?

_**I hope that I may be forgiven for the lateness of this piece. Suffice it to say that life has been hectic, not to mention exhausting. I've been having very serious problems writing anything substantial ever since the semester started, and during the past couple of months, my family has been in the process of moving. One would think, after heading out on my own, I wouldn't have to help them move again. One would be wrong.**_

_**I'm making progress on a new project that should be ready to post by next year, but again, it's proven difficult. My head's not quite in the right place yet, I think. It's almost there, and I'm getting to the point that I can muscle past it, but I've had writer's block for a while now.**_

_**This chapter is leading up to the plot point I mentioned last time; the plot point in question is the entire reason I started this project, and so all that you've written so far is merely setup for the fun part. I could have started here, certainly, but that would have been a disservice. I don't believe in jumping right into a story that defies canon unless I spend time setting up why, and how.**_

_**That said, let's see what happens next.**_

* * *

"Yami?" Mokuba asked, confused. "The king from Ancient Egypt?"

Yugi's eyebrow raised. "I do believe you are the first person not to call me a 'pharaoh.' I think I like you, youngling." Mokuba gave a half-smirk. "In any case, yes. Call me Yami." He held out a hand, and Mokuba shook it without hesitation. The boy felt a kind of…thrum. Some energy, like static electricity. He did not loosen his grip. Yugi grinned.

"So I take it from your choice of reading earlier that you are harboring a certain interest in my _patria terra?"_

"Well, kind of. We're talking about Egypt in my history class. I asked Isis Ishtar about it, and she lent that book to me."

"And how _is _Miss Ishtar?"

"…Fine? She's a teacher now."

Yugi rubbed his chin, mulling this over. "Very good. I'm pleased to hear it." Mokuba was reminded of what he called his brother's "sunshine voice," which Seto used whenever he had no choice but to sound pleasant, and laid on a charm so thick that it hung in the air. Yugi or Yami or whoever he was didn't care about Isis Ishtar any more than Mokuba cared about North Korean politics.

"A pleasant coincidence that you would be studying my people," Yugi said. He glanced at the front door of the shop. "And _another _coincidence. It seems the lieutenants return from the field."

Mokuba looked over at the door, confused.

Joey and Tristan walked in almost thirty seconds later.

"Welcome, my brothers!" Yugi said, chuckling. "It would seem as though the…gang's all here." He winked at Mokuba. "Your esteemed brother would, of course, be most welcome as well. However, as I am sure he is busy, we will have to make do without him. No matter. That should only serve to make this even more interesting."

"…Huh?"

"You talkin' about that ritual thing?" Joey asked. "Hey, Moku-man. Whassup?"

"Hi. Ritual?"

"Yami's back in town to pull a little hocus-pocus," Tristan said. "Somethin' to do with us. I think."

Mokuba looked over at his friend—and the spirit/disorder that had control of him—who now had his eyes closed; his lips were moving, but if he was speaking, his voice was so low that none of them could hear it. Joey tried to ask what was going on, but Tristan elbowed him in the gut to keep him quiet.

Seto had always taught his brother to embrace fear. To smother it, conquer it. To use it to sharpen his senses. Mokuba felt a shiver of that most primal of emotions go through him, and he forced it down. When Yugi opened his eyes again, though, they seemed to glow a bright, bloody red that sliced right through the young Kaiba's courage and froze his blood.

_**We are all here, **_came a deep, sharp, powerful voice that slammed into Mokuba's head and seemed to push from inside his skull. _**We have been called to the Hall of Two Truths. Here we stand, and here we lay our necks bare. Do you answer the call of **_**mayet?**

Mokuba wondered if that word was the thing Isis Ishtar's book called "maat," the Ancient Egyptian ideal of justice and order. But that thought, like every other thought in his head, was muted. Muffled. Strangled and desperate.

A flash of golden light, and Yugi's face was…Yugi's again. Yami had retreated.

Yugi breathed deep, let it out shuddering, and said, "…I answer the call of _mayet."_

He looked at Téa. She stiffened, but eventually nodded and said, "I answer the call of _mayet."_

Joey was next: "I answer the call of _mayet."_

Tristan: "I answer the call of _mayet."_

Yugi looked at Mokuba, but before he could speak, before he could even think to recite the words, Yami's face was back. Those bloody eyes were back. The voice of death was back:

_**Do you, orphan, answer the call of **_**mayet? **_**Do you, orphan, lay forth your hand? Do you, orphan, offer your blood for your blood? Do you answer the call? Do you submit to the will of **_**mayet?**

Mokuba realized that even if he'd wanted to refuse—and he did—he wouldn't have been able to. His voice didn't work. His limbs didn't work. With all the suddenness of a lightning strike in a bright summer sky, the young Kaiba was terrified. Every memory of fear, the very _essence _of horror, had overtaken him.

And it was all he could do to nod.

The king's hand snatched out and grabbed Mokuba's wrist.

Across the table, he dragged the boy's arm, holding up the palm of his right hand. The king brought forth a knife in his free hand, and before the idea of pulling back even entered Mokuba's mind, pain lanced through him like a flash of white fire, and the voice echoed in his ears.

_**Then we begin.**_

* * *

_**Yami's performance here is influenced by mythology, but not specifically taken from it. As Mokuba guessed, "mayet" is a variant spelling of "maat," or "ma'at," the Egyptian concept of justice. This goddess bore the feather which was weighed against the hearts of the dead to determine their eternal fate. This weighing would take place before Osiris in, yes, the Hall of Two Truths. **_

_**The character of Yami in this project isn't just an exercise in writing a social sadist, but also acts as a vessel for bringing Egypt back into the series. The use of Egyptian theology is sorely lacking in the main series after the beginning of the Duelist Kingdom arc, and I'm seeking with this project, along with "Cult of the Dragon King," to bring it back.**_


	17. A Road that will lead into the Unknown

_**Happy new year, all. After much deliberation, I decided to scrap the special 100-chapter plot twist I mentioned a while back. I've tried to hammer this series into the shape I wanted it, but that goes against pretty much everything I believe about writing. The story dictates itself; the less I have to do with how a story comes out, the better.**_

_**This is a short chapter, but it's the beginning of a new era for me. I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions, but the beginning of the calendar still has a certain romantic resonance with changing things up. So, let's see how it goes.**_

_**Let's begin.**_

* * *

"O Atem, who went forth as the Great One of the waters…"

Mokuba felt like he was nowhere and everywhere at the same time; like in a dream. His body felt stretched. The voice of the king was the only thing that he could understand. His thoughts had no substance. Even the voice of the king, the only thing that felt real anymore, was vague and fluid, and he could only hear it when it wanted to be heard.

"…announce in your own words to those who are in the Presence…that she comes as one who is in their midst…"

Mokuba knew that his friends were here, that they were with him, but it was like when he'd had his soul stolen. He couldn't see them. Even if he'd had eyes _to _see, they wouldn't have had bodies. _He _didn't. He knew they were there the same way he knew there were other solar systems in other galaxies; they were too far away to matter.

The voice of the king held dominion.

"May she live after death like Ra every day…"

Mokuba should have been terrified. He was back in that black, smoky no-man's land where nothing existed, that same place that magic had sent him so many years ago. The place where he would have been trapped, forever, if not for the man—the god—who was speaking right now.

Who was working magic right now.

"Was Ra born yesterday? Then will she be born. May every god be joyful when she lives, just as they were joyful when Ptah lived, when he came forth from the great Mansion of the Prince…which is in Iunu."

Who was the king talking about? Who was "she?" Did the king have a wife? Was his queen the key to getting rid of the darkness? Mokuba wanted to see her. He hoped she would bring light into this place.

"O you Sole One, who shines in the moon…O you Sole One, who glows in the sun…"

No. No, that wasn't right.

Not a wife. Not a queen.

"May she go forth, from among these multitudes of yours…may those who are in the sunshine release her…may the Netherworld be opened to her when she goes out into the day…in order to do what she wishes…on earth among the living."

A mother.

There was a flash of light, sudden and fierce like a summertime thunderstorm, as Mokuba's eyes snapped open and he fell back into his chair, feeling like he'd just run the length of the earth. His entire body was aching, his vision was blurred and his breath came in haggard gasps. Looking around, he found that he still sat in the front room of the Turtle Game Shop, and the others were still there. They'd come back.

They'd never left.

Joey was standing, hacking and choking, stumbling backward. Téa had tears running down her face, and Tristan was unconscious. The only person unaffected by—_the darkness—_was Yugi.

Yami.

The spirit king stood, slowly, still half in a trance; and then he was back. The smirk was back, the sarcastic glint was back.

The unwavering confidence was back.

Mokuba looked down at his right hand, where his friend had stabbed a knife straight through him just moments—_eternities—_ago. There was no blood. No scar. No memory. The only way he could even tell it had happened at all was the stain on the table.

He looked up.

Yami was grinning fit to burst, turning his eyes slowly, lazily, to the front door of the shop. The bell rang. Once. Twice. Three times. With each ring, a person entered, and Yami's grin widened, until he looked like a predator.

When he spoke, his voice slithered:

"Yuki-sama…Kohaku-sama…Seto-kun…welcome to my home."

* * *

_**The spell Yami casts in this chapter has been taken, albeit with slight alterations for the sake of gender and spelling/historical consistency, from Spells 3 and 2, respectively (I quoted them out of order because I'm a rebel like that) of the Egyptian Book of the Dead (as it is colloquially known), specifically the translation by Raymond O. Faulkner.**_

_**Those of you who have read my work previously will certainly grasp the importance of this chapter, and why I considered it a pivotal twist; for those of you who might be lost, I will cede to you this bit of information:**_

_**Yuki and Kohaku are the names that I have given the Kaibas' biological parents.**_

_**The Kaibas' dead biological parents.**_


	18. Just another Family Torn

_**Last chapter, while a big reveal, didn't actually do much. This is something of a companion chapter to it. More of the specifics of what I've done, and what I plan to do, will come as the story unfolds. This one, I hope, will answer some questions.**_

_**Suffice it to say that this is the part of the story that I was most anxious to start, and to share with you.**_

_**This is where things start getting fun.**_

* * *

When Joey recovered his breath, and his vision returned, he turned to the front door of the Turtle Game Shop to see for himself the product of their ritual. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been anything human.

_Definitely_ not a family.

The man and woman were each holding one hand of a six- or seven-year-old boy. The child had soft brunette hair and wide, intelligent blue eyes. He was somehow…delicate. Dressed in light khakis, brown loafers, a long-sleeved button-down shirt and a blue sweater vest, he looked every bit like a private school valedictorian. The sort of kid they picked to give a speech at graduation. Joey was reminded of Connor Brinkley.

The man, probably the kid's father, was dressed far less formally in jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt under a thin, faded jacket. His hair was slightly darker than his son's, shaggier, and his face sported a thin beard. His grey eyes were dull but determined. Joey was, oddly, reminded of himself.

The woman…

"…Holy _fuck."_

"Little ears, Joseph," Yami said, smirking.

Joey cleared his throat. "Uh…right. Sorry."

The woman was the kind of beautiful that never seemed real. Joey'd heard the sorts of metaphors people used in poetry to describe gorgeous women: hair like an ebony waterfall, porcelain skin, eyes like gemstones, a perfect figure…he'd never really understood what the hell any of that was supposed to mean.

He understood now.

She was dressed in jeans, like her husband, and a violet turtleneck sweater that matched the small stones set into her earrings; though her clothes had probably come from the same department store as her husband's, the way she carried herself more than made up for it. She looked like royalty, and some part of Joey thought stupidly that he recognized this woman.

But that was impossible.

"What…_was _that?" the man asked after a rather uncomfortable silence. He was staring at Yami. "You said to wait, to sit tight, that it _wouldn't_ hurt. That's a boldfaced lie if I've ever heard one."

Yami chuckled. "My apologies, Kohaku-sama. I must admit that I have never been the receiving party of this particular magic. I trust, however, that you have recovered?"

"I guess, but…_still. _Jesus."

"Ko," the goddess intoned, "be polite. He's offered to help us. The least we can do is thank him properly." She bowed her head. "I apologize. Thank you very much for your help, Mister Mutou."

"You flatter me," Yami said, sounding honestly humble for the first time. "In all truth, Yuki-sama, all the practical help that I can provide for you at this moment has just been given. I am shamed to admit that my strength is sapped. However, I have brought you to a place where you will be able to secure…proper protection. That much, I can promise you."

Yuki.

So, her name was Yuki.

And her husband's name was Kohaku.

"Protection?" Tristan repeated from the floor. "These folks need protection? From what?"

"We'll get to that," Yami said. "Suffice it to say that they are…in a rough spot, and I have offered to assist them. A favor to an old friend, you might call it. Ah! My manners. I seem to have misplaced them." He bowed deeply, and gestured. "These are my friends, who have helped me to bring you here: Tristan Taylor, Joseph Wheeler, and Téa Gardner. Everyone, this is the Yagami family."

Joey lifted a limp hand and offered a half-wave, half-spasm. "Yo."

"…Good t' meetcha," Tristan muttered incoherently as he stumbled to his feet.

"A pleasure," Téa added, bowing.

The little boy returned the bow. "Thank you for helping us," he said, all prim and proper. Yuki smiled, and it sent an electric shock through Joey's mind. Kohaku, for his part, had a look on his face that Joey had seen on any number of proud fathers.

Fathers that were, inevitably, _not _his own, in other words.

Yami glanced over his shoulder. "And…if you will allow me…I introduce to you the key to your protection. Without my friends, here, to complete the ritual would have killed me. Without _him_, I never would have been able to start."

Joey blinked.

"This is Mokuba."

The black-haired boy's mouth hung open, working soundlessly for several seconds as he strained futilely to remember how to speak. Joey had seen a lot of emotions from both Kaiba brothers over the years: happiness, grief, anger, fear.

This was the first time he could remember ever seeing all of them at once.

"…What…w-what have you done…?"


	19. Is This a Mistake?

_**With the new year comes new inspiration, and slowly but surely I'm managing to get back into the groove of this project. I have a number of things on my plate right now, seeing as how it's my final semester as an undergraduate student; come May, I'll have a Bachelor's Degree in English.**_

_**Aside from a new blog created for one of my classes (it's called "Nostalgia Glasses: A Trip Through Gaming History," for those who may be interested in my take on various topics relating to videogames and their rather colorful history), and a rather frightening number of textbooks, I can't guarantee much of anything, but I'm pretty sure I'll not only be back to updating once a week, but I should be able to post two, maybe even three. We'll see how it goes.**_

_**For now, it's back to the game shop, where Yami's little scheme has been laid bare. Wonder how Mokuba's going to take meeting his parents.**_

_**Let's find out.**_

* * *

"…I feel like we missed something," Tristan said, looking from the Yagamis to Mokuba and back again. The kid looked about ready to bolt from the building; he'd only ever seen Mokuba Kaiba looking scared like this once before…and he preferred not to think of that. He wasn't the most sentimental guy on the planet, but he had a heart; enough was enough.

The look on Yami's face told Tristan that the ancient king didn't give a shit. Actually, he seemed to drink in the younger Kaiba brother's reaction like a fine wine; he looked seconds away from laughing.

Joey was obviously taken with Yuki. Tristan had to admit that she made quite the…impression, but right now _something _was playing havoc with his head to such a degree that a hangover sounded like a vacation. All he wanted to do right now was go home, crawl into bed, and forget the world.

Kohaku, who looked ten years older than he probably was, ran his hands through his dark brown hair in a way that Tristan found absurdly familiar. The man was scrutinizing Yami as if trying to figure out if he was human or not, and Tristan had to wonder if the question wasn't valid.

Yuki seemed to be the diplomat of the family. She stepped forward and knelt down in front of Mokuba, blissfully ignoring the shock and…horror on the black-haired boy's face. "Thank you, Mokuba," she said. "You may have just saved my family. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

Mokuba stumbled back a step, clearly frightened out of his mind. He babbled incoherently for a moment before biting his lower lip and forcing himself into silence. He bowed hurriedly and made a bee-line for the exit.

Yuki blinked, surprised, and turned to Yami for an explanation. "What's this about? What, exactly, did he have to do for us to come here?"

She sounded accusatory. Almost predatory.

Yami raised an eyebrow, cool as the storied cucumber. "Nothing he will fully remember come dawn. Worry not, Yuki-sama. I would not allow serious harm to come to the poor boy. He is…special."

Yuki looked like she didn't believe him.

"Hey, uh…you guys want somethin' to drink or…somethin'?" Joey asked after the silence had gone on just a bit too long. "Think we got tea and soda…might have juice. Ma'am? Sir? How 'bout you, Chief? Wanna Pepsi 'r somethin'?"

The boy blinked, apparently not realizing for a moment that "Chief" meant him. He frowned at the blond as if unsure what to make of him, before saying, "No, thank you. I'm fine."

"Thank you, but I'll pass," said Yuki, not looking at Joey.

"Rain check," Kohaku added.

"What…kind of protection do they need?" Téa asked. "What can we do to help?"

"Nothing," Yami said. "Your part is done. The true test of my…diplomacy comes now. We must convince dear Mokuba to listen to us."

Yuki's violet eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Yami shrugged. "Because without his backing, we will never convince his brother to help, and _he_ is the key to this plan's success. I have watched him, gauged him, these past few days. I believe he will perform admirably, once he is convinced."

"What's Kaiba gotta do with this?" Joey asked, and the world ceased to move.

The silence that followed was palpable, almost solid.

The boy went stiff and pale; Kohaku gritted his teeth, and Yuki's pretty face sank into a frown. She positively glared at the spirit now, and Tristan was shocked at how effective it was. The woman was fucking scary.

"…You expect us to accept help from a _Kaiba?"_ she asked in a hiss.

Yami's face split into a manic grin. "Oh, I do. And you will see why soon enough. Trust me, Yuki-sama. I do not disappoint. You came to me for help, and I intend to deliver it. If this plan doesn't work out, well…there are other avenues."

"Let's try one of those," Yuki said waspishly.

"Now, now. It's quite unbecoming for a lady of your standing to be so judgmental. Do you think me so stupid that I would deliver you into the protection of an enemy?" Yami looked legitimately offended. "I would appreciate a touch more credit than that. I have risked my own existence, as well as those of my closest friends, to help you. I have a debt to repay, and I intend to pay it. But if you will not cooperate, then I will be forced to use…less than pleasant methods."

The little boy's cobalt eyes turned cold. "Don't speak to her like that," he said, in a sharp tone of command that was unmistakable.

Yami blinked.

Tristan drew in a sharp breath.

Joey stared. "…Holy crap, that sounds familiar."

Yami stepped back, away from Yuki, and bowed with a flourish. "My apologies, young one. I have allowed my temper to get the better of me." He stood straight. "Everyone? It is, of course, unnecessary—I would not ask you to be nearly as impassioned as little Mokuba in the defense of our…friend—but perhaps you could convince our guests to give Kaiba a chance?"

"Fat chance of that," Kohaku said in a slow rumble.

"No, I…think you might wanna reconsider," Joey said, eyeing the little boy suspiciously. Kohaku frowned at him. "I dunno what's goin' on, who you need protectin' from or why Yami broughtcha here, but…lemme ask somethin'. What's 'is name?"

"…Whose name?"

"Head honcho Kaiba. Big man on campus. What's 'is name? His first name."

Yuki raised an eyebrow.

The boy spoke up: "…Gozaburo."

"Thought so."

"Isn't that Kaiba's father?" Téa asked.

"And he's the problem here," Joey guessed.

"Indeed," Yami said. "You see, Yuki-sama, the Kaiba to whom I intend to introduce you is Gozaburo's adopted successor. Here, in this…world, Gozaburo is dead. This does not affect your present danger…not particularly. However, it will certainly simplify matters for a while."

"Forgive me if I'm not exactly thrilled," Yuki said dryly.

"I'm not interested in trusting anyone in that family," Kohaku said.

"Oi. Yami." Joey glanced over. "Is this what _we _used to sound like?"

"More than likely." Yami turned away and headed for one of the shop's shelves of merchandise. "I understand the concept. Do not misread me. But you are placing the father's sins upon the son. _My _people may have been ignorant enough for such a practice, but surely _you _are enlightened enough to see otherwise?" Yami glanced pointedly at Seto. "Bloodline does not determine destiny, or else…well. Consider the legacy _your _father left behind. Is your beloved boy destined to be nothing more than an abusive alcoholic?" The spirit's eyes hardened. "Or do you, like my friends did in the past, extend such beliefs only to people you don't like?"

There was a collective, guilty flinch throughout the room.

"…Of course not. Forgive us." Yuki inclined her head.

Yami's grin returned. "Good! Now, then…"

He took a magazine from a rack near the stairs leading up to the residential area of the building, glanced at it. Kaiba's picture was on the glossy, flashy cover. Yami chuckled, and tossed the publication to Yuki.

"Meet your savior," he said.


	20. When All Else Fails

_**This is a short chapter, so I'll be brief.**_

_**I think you have been waiting to see this particular side of the coin; so let's get it started.**_

_**And don't worry, I'll be putting up another chapter soon. I won't leave you hanging too long.**_

_**Promise.**_

* * *

"He won't come out."

Seto closed his eyes and counted slowly, agonizingly, to ten. It did no good. His blood still simmered, barely held back from boiling over. He clenched his teeth. In the eleven years he had lived with his brother, he had only seen Mokuba look legitimately frightened a handful of times. Certainly, when he'd been younger—three or four—any number of things had scared the boy out of his wits, but after six or so, he'd gained a Kaiba's courage.

"Has he said anything?"

Vincent Zika shrugged. "Nothing we can make any sense of. The only thing we can even hear is, 'Not true, not true,' and, 'He's crazy.' We're not sure who he's talking about. Sir…perhaps _you_ could calm him down?"

Seto didn't feel like he was in a position to calm _anyone, _and most certainly did not want to show this side of himself to his brother. He was shaking, his thoughts raced so fast that he couldn't keep track of them, and he felt a nearly irresistible urge to strangle someone.

"Where was he this afternoon?"

"Ah…Mutou's place, sir."

Somehow, he wasn't surprised.

"Where is Roland?"

"Still outside Mokuba's room, sir. Should I get him?"

"Yes. Immedia—"

"I'm here, Master Kaiba."

Roland Ackerman stepped into the room, looking as deadly serious as Seto had ever seen him. His ever-present glasses were gone, and his coal-black eyes gleamed. His mouth was set in a frown like fixed granite.

Seto's eyes narrowed to slits. "…What is it?"

"He said something else, sir," Roland said. "It makes no sense; he would have been bleeding." Seto's entire body snapped to attention. "However…I think we have a very serious situation on our hands. And I think you should deal with it personally."

Seto tried to think of the last time Roland had _recommended _that his employer handle a matter. Usually, he was trying to convince Seto to let someone else take over for once. Every fiber of his being was on fire, and suddenly the idea that human combustion was a myth didn't seem true anymore.

Roland's jaw cracked.

"…He said, 'He stabbed me.'"

In that moment, common sense was incinerated.

All sense of logic came to a screeching halt, and Seto's arm flew out to the side, threw open the drawer of his desk. The semi-automatic pistol that had killed Siegfried von Schroeder snapped into its holster even as the elder Kaiba was stalking toward the door.

Neither Vincent nor Roland had the courage—or inclination—to stop him.


	21. Don't Forget, My Son

_**My apologies for the short update last time. Seto's reaction to this whole thing will take a number of updates to fully encapsulate, and here before you sits the first one. It was far more fun to write than it should have been, which tells me something about myself that I don't usually think about. The professor who led my writing class last semester said that writers must be sadists to be effective.**_

_**I think it is my duty to agree.**_

* * *

When they heard tires screeching outside of the shop, they should have anticipated Armageddon. Joey Wheeler wasn't the sort of guy to be caught off guard by much. He'd trained himself to roll with the proverbial punches.

He was still too wrapped up in the idea that he was staring at a seven-year-old Seto goddamn Kaiba to even register the fact that the _twenty-year-old _Seto goddamn Kaiba might be a problem.

This one's name was Seto Yagami, of course. He wouldn't become a Kaiba until after he turned eleven. Joey remembered something Kaiba had told him once: that he'd raised Mokuba by himself since the kid had been born, and that the Kaiba brothers were about eight or nine years apart. As far as this Seto was concerned, Mokuba didn't exist yet.

There was something inhumanly _wrong_ about that.

Not to mention the fact that Seto Yagami was polite, gracious, downright charming. Though he was just as confused as his parents, just as nervous, he wore it well. He wore it like…well, like Joey might have expected Mokuba to wear it. The boy smiled when Téa called him a little cutie, even blushed a little.

It was…fucking surreal.

So of course, Joey's brain was entirely too occupied to register the fact that the car outside might be a metal-blue Bughatti Veyron, and that the driver of said car might be homicidally pissed. He didn't even spare a thought about Kaiba, because he was too busy trying to reconcile the fact that Kaiba was standing right in front of him.

All four fucking feet of him.

Yuki still held the magazine with Kaiba on the cover in a death-grip, and looked positively mortified at the idea that her baby had been adopted into the family that was apparently posing such a huge threat to her that _Yami _had stepped in. For his part, the spirit was doing his level best to keep from laughing, and doing a pretty bad job of it.

When Kaiba all but shattered the front door, Joey had just enough presence of mind to register that he'd never seen Seto Kaiba looking like he did right now. Even at his most furious, the man exuded iron-fisted control and icy determination.

There was no control in him now.

There was only death.

Before anyone else had a chance to react, Kaiba had his rival by the throat.

"_Talk!" _Kaiba thundered. Seto Yagami had had an inkling of this tone when he'd defended his mother. That specifically volatile tone of voice that comes from protecting a loved one; but where the Yagami boy's warning had had a child's unconditional affection for its protector behind it, Kaiba's had the feral rage of a wild animal protecting its young.

"Good afternoon, Kaiba," Yami offered pleasantly, grinning at the madman in front of him with all the confidence in the world. "You're looking well. How is your brother? He seemed in a bit of a hurry."

Kaiba launched the spirit—and Yugi's body with it—backward, and the avalanche of toys, games, and DVDs sounded like a blast of lightning; he leveled a very familiar pistol between Yami's eyes. Joey didn't know what Kaiba looked like from the king's vantage point, lying on his back as he was, but had no idea how the hell he could still be grinning.

Or _laughing._

"Kaiba!" Tristan managed, but it did no good. "Kaiba, damn it, Yugi's still in there! That's still Yugi's body, you stupid son of a bitch!"

Nothing.

As far as Kaiba was concerned, Yami was the only man other than himself in the entire world. And that was one too many. Tristan continued to yell, but Joey knew it didn't matter. It might have worked if someone were here to remind Kaiba that he was human, but right now…

Joey understood better than anyone else here that Kaiba was a shield for his brother. When Mokuba was hurt, or scared, or in trouble, there was only Niisama. The kid had other friends now, and he could handle himself pretty well now, but those times when he _needed_ help, he only went to one person.

When Mokuba needed help, there was only one solution, and when Kaiba took on that mantle, he was no longer a man but a _force; _Tristan may as well have been trying to reason with a hurricane.

Téa was scared stiff; Yami was still laughing. Tristan fell silent after a while.

Joey'd forgotten about the other three people in the room…until Yuki spoke.

"…Seto?"

Kaiba's reaction was physically painful to watch. He whirled, entire body poised to kill, and his weapon came with him. For the first time, Joey truly believed that Yuki Yagami was this man's mother. She stared stone-cold at the man who was (apparently) her son, and the gun he was pointing at her might as well have been a bouquet of paper flowers. She just looked…curious.

Lightning shot through Kaiba's entire body, and he froze.

Joey realized that the semi-automatic in the man's hand had just been rendered useless. He could no more pull the trigger than he could form a coherent thought. His muscles were locked, and moving was no longer an option. The only part of him that had any life left was his eyes, and that life was terrible to behold.

Mokuba had been frightened of this woman.

Kaiba was nothing short of horrified.


	22. I'm the One who Takes you There

_**Bit of a transitional chapter here; you didn't think there wouldn't be an overarching conflict in this little experiment of mine, did you?**_

_**I give you…the opposition.**_

* * *

"So?" The man in the black suit leaned back in his chair and scowled. "What happened?"

"No need to worry," the man in the red suit said, smirking. "A minor setback, is all. We didn't anticipate that the old boy would have the right kind of…juice left, if you follow me. We'll find him, and we'll find his…companions, as well."

The man in the black suit raised a thick black eyebrow. "Do you take me for an idiot? Do I _look _like a middle-management drone? Try something with substance or find a new partner. I'm not interested in being insulted."

"If this is the part where I'm supposed to be intimidated, do tell me so that I can show the proper level of terror. Would you like me to cower? Fall on my knees, wet myself, cry for my mother?" The man in the red suit took his hands out of his pockets and set them against his hips. "Need I remind you that the reason you started working with me in the first place was because your tricks _don't _work on me?"

"No, but evidently you need to find every excuse to hear yourself talk," the man in the black suit muttered as he stood up. "I don't need to be told what and what not should worry me."

"If this were about what you _needed, _I would have found you a therapist."

"You may have the occult backing you, but do not forget that _I _have assets as well. I do not suffer fools. Spare me. Reserve your wit for those dim enough to appreciate it."

The expression on the man in the red suit's face turned to stone. "Very well. The proverbial bush has been beaten to death, it would seem. He is ancient, and he is far more cunning than we could have anticipated. His senses are sharp. But ours are sharper. He maintains far too much confidence. Not only in himself, but in his comrades."

"I continue to hear platitudes. Get to the point."

"Pay attention for once in your life, and you'll realize that I've already gotten there. His confidence in them will be his undoing. We will find him, and we will end this."

The man in the black suit grunted dismissively. "If I had known the headache this would cause, I would have scrapped the entire project."

"We could not have known that the boy would have allies."

"I am not interested in what you could not have known."

"Nor am I interested in your ceaseless bitching. _You _called _us _in, remember? _You _asked for _our _help with your…personal project. We will deliver. I hear tell that patience is a most frightening skill of yours. Indulge in it."

"This project is fast becoming more trouble than it is worth."

"We are too far invested now. We will bring the boy to you, or we will kill him. The obvious choice is the former. I know how much you hate wasting resources. Especially those of such a…delicate variety."

The man in the black suit sneered. "…Are you appealing to my humanity, Crawford?"

The man in the red suit chuckled.

"I would never, Kaiba-shachou."


	23. This Whipping Boy Done Wrong

_**This was originally two chapters, but I realized rather late that this wouldn't be fair to you. I already did something of a disservice by stopping the action last time to show you another side of the conflict (which isn't all that it might seem; I have some tricks up my sleeve, just you wait), so I decided I'd merge the next two chapters into one, shifting around some perspectives to make it work.**_

_**The result, I think, is stronger.**_

_**Take a gander, as it were, and see if you like where we're headed.**_

* * *

His face was a road map. His mouth was set far too easily into a frown. He was almost gaunt, thin and severe and…somehow painful to watch. His eyes, a blazing, too vibrant blue, were half-terrified and half-disgusted.

He was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than her car; he held a gun with obvious training and, worse, comfort. His stance was rigid, like a soldier at attention; when he'd first entered the room, he'd moved like a natural predator.

He was a walking contradiction.

A burning paradox.

And the part of it all that made Yuki's heart ache was that through all of it…there wasn't a single hint of anything that told her this _wasn't _her son.

When she'd first been approached by Solomon Mutou, Yuki hadn't been sure what to make of the offer. He'd said that he knew about the problem she and her family had been having, about the threat looming over their heads, and that he could help.

"When you meet me on the other side," he'd said, "I will not look like this. I trust that you will know me well enough. I hear tell that I am rather distinct. Don't worry about that." And so she hadn't. She wondered how it is that Solomon had managed to change from a sixty-year-old man to an eighteen-year-old boy, but then, Yuki didn't know much about magic.

Then he'd said this:

"I warn you now. You're going to meet someone very familiar, Yuki-sama. And it's going to hurt. But we are going to need him…and unless I miss my guess, he is going to need you. Be patient with him. I trust you won't find that difficult."

She hadn't had the faintest clue what this had meant at the time; she'd simply agreed. Seto had come home from school that day quiet, withdrawn, and shaken; quiet and withdrawn was almost normal, but she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen her boy looking scared.

Anything that could conceivably help, she would have agreed to do.

Cryptic warnings didn't mean much.

So she had agreed to the ritual, she had sat with Solomon and allowed him to draw her blood. She had listened to him chant spells from Egypt that meant next to nothing to her, and she had endured the ripping, tearing agony of the journey to…wherever _this _was.

It had all seemed to make some odd amount of sense.

Solomon Mutou made it sound so simple.

Yuki was just beginning to realize that nothing involving magic was ever simple.

"Seto," she heard Kohaku say, in a voice too far away to hear properly. "What is the matter with you? _Seto! _Are you even—"

Kohaku clamped a hand on the man's right shoulder.

The blond one, whose name was Joey, belted out, "What the _hell _are you doing, you stupid _fuck?!" _and Yuki jumped; but the words didn't reach Kohaku in time, nor did they reach the man she'd seen on the magazine that lay forgotten near her feet on the floor. That man, for indeed he was a man—this Seto Kaiba—didn't even look over his shoulder; he holstered his weapon, whirled, caught hold of Kohaku's wrist, then his arm, and sent him sailing backward through the air and into the store's front counter, all in one motion.

Kohaku was solidly built, stocky, muscled from years of hard physical labor, yet in two seconds he'd been reduced to a grunting, groaning, crumpled heap on the floor.

It hadn't even been a conscious effort on Kaiba's part; he was clearly preoccupied. His eyes turned back, slowly, hauntingly, to Yugi Mutou—Solomon's grandson, Yuki realized; the little boy a few years younger than her own son, who'd offered to make her tea when she'd come to start the ritual. She'd thought he was sweet, a regular gentleman; yet Kaiba looked at him with venomous hatred.

"…You'd already signed your own death warrant when you laid hands on my brother," Kaiba said, slowly, and Yuki heard her Seto in his voice; more than that, she heard something deeper, something that reminded her of...herself. Kaiba gripped Yugi by the collar he wore around his neck—an odd fashion statement—and lifted him up like an over-sized doll, with one arm. Yugi worked his feet beneath him, stood up, only to be thrown off of them as his antagonist slammed him into a shelving unit. "But this…_this…!" _Kaiba gestured spasmodically with his free hand, in Yuki's general direction.

"_This _has a name, Kaiba," Yugi said, idly.

"_Who the holy fuck do you think you are?!" _Kaiba screamed; his voice, like a gun-blast, making Yuki's heart leap into her throat. Yugi didn't flinch. "What…_is _this…?" He was back to whispering again, a switch so jarring that it made Yuki's head go blank for a moment. "By what right…by what blasphemous authority…do you find it acceptable to—to…?"

There was more to this than the little boy with the black hair and the grey-violet eyes.

"Naming my authority will do no amount of good," Yugi replied smoothly, acting entirely oblivious to his current situation. "However, I might ask, Kaiba, is it not the prerogative of a king, indeed _any _leader, to protect his on subje—"

"_No!"_

That single word was a whip-crack; Yuki gasped.

"You narcissistic little _shit_, don't you _dare _claim them as _yours!" _Kaiba's face was red, his hair disheveled; the fire in his eyes—trapped beneath a sheet of ice only moments ago—blazed through the barrier in a sudden inferno; the ice melted and ran down his face as tears of deepest fury. "These are _my _memories! This is _my _family! Do you hear me?! _MINE!"_

"Kaiba—"

"_SAY ONE MORE GODDAMNED WORD AND I'LL BLOW YOUR **FUCKING** HEAD OFF!"_


	24. He Could Just be Gone

_**I am now a Bachelor of the Arts. I graduated cum laude from University of the Pacific's class of 2013, and of course the first thing I decided I would do with a sudden influx of free time was work on stories.**_

_**I've been updating "Cult of the Dragon King" recently, as something of a stress reliever, but I've neglected pretty much everything else.**_

_**The tail-end of this final semester of undergraduate studies was interesting, to say the least. I do believe I was ready to tear my hair out a number of times, and it makes it even more infuriating that I didn't do as well as I wanted.**_

_**It's pretty bad when you look at a 3.7 GPA and think, "That's crap," but that's where my head is right now.**_

_**I think Seto is rubbing off on me.**_

_**I do apologize for leaving you hanging for three months. It was cruel. But I hope you understand.**_

_**Let's get things underway, shall we?**_

* * *

A part of Joey Wheeler realized that he wasn't surprised in the slightest at the event unfolding in front of him right now. Kaiba and Yami had some weird kind of understanding with each other, but they'd never _liked _each other. There had always been that undercurrent of hatred permeating through every encounter they'd ever had.

That Kaiba hadn't pulled a gun on Yami _before _now was the real surprise.

He knew that it was _Yugi's _life Kaiba was threatening right now, that Yami was already dead and it wouldn't matter a flying fuck to _him. _And Joey also knew that he couldn't allow it to happen. But just the same, there was something in Kaiba's fury, something about the raw sense of desperation and…sorrow in it, that held Joey fast.

This wasn't the same kind of anger that had made Kaiba shoot his former business rival's throat out. This was a mixture of primal fury and deep, cutting grief. The tears streaming down the man's face weren't just frustration.

Somehow, Joey knew this.

And part of it might have had to do with the heartbroken expression on Yagami Yuki's face as she watched her son teeter on the precipice of murder.

Some part of him would think later that he should have expected this. Kaiba's parents were dead. If his devotion to Mokuba—and Joey knew full well that it _was _devotion, even though he'd doubted it many times in the past—was any clue, Kaiba took matters of family all too seriously. What other reaction could he have possibly had to seeing his parents, ten years in the grave, standing in front of him again? What else could he possibly be, except insulted?

Homicidally insulted?

The seconds crawled by, agonizing in their plodding pace. The air was thick, suffocating; it crackled and sparked, popped and smoked, like a bonfire. Joey tried to move his arm. It didn't answer. It didn't twitch a micrometer.

Yami, miraculously, had listened to Kaiba's order. He'd ceased to speak. Even his smirk was gone. He simply stared straight into the young CEO's eyes as if daring him to pull the trigger. Not a single trace of fear was on the spirit's face. He almost looked bored.

Joey was positive that it was going to happen. It was going to happen right now, and his muscles wouldn't answer him. His best friend was being held hostage by a madman—by _two _of them—and Joey wasn't three feet away from him. Three feet from saving him.

And he couldn't move.

He stared, helpless, and wondered when a crash of gunfire would signal Kaiba's damnation.

And his own.

Until…

"Niisama."

There was a beat of strangulation, where the air itself went solid.

A part of Joey thought that he should be even higher on alert than before; that this only made things worse. But he only tried to deny for a second or two that he felt relief wash over him like warm water. His entire body relaxed, and he let out his pent-up breath and actually smiled a little.

From his peripheral vision, he saw that Yami was smirking again, and that Tristan had the same look of stunned relief that Joey was sure _he _had. The only person who looked _more_ frightened was the one person who didn't understand just what this meant.

Téa.

The Yagami family turned to see who had spoken. It was the little boy who'd run out on them not too long ago. Yuki blinked, fear forgotten in a sudden flash of surprise; the brunette boy frowned curiously. That look of loneliness, that look of blank, desolate resolve, vanished from his pretty face.

Kohaku didn't seem to _have _a reaction. His mind seemed to have shut down. Joey couldn't really blame him; once _he _looked, the blond couldn't take his eyes off the young Kaiba heir. It was like an anchor. The boy's hair was disheveled (more than usual), and his clothes were rumpled. But his eyes were clear. His face was free of fear or worry.

Joey could _feel _Kaiba come back.

The elder Kaiba brother made no visible reaction, but Joey knew it nonetheless. It was over. Done. There was no need to worry anymore. Some distant part of him thought that that should be absurd, but somehow…it wasn't.

"It's okay, Niisama," Mokuba said. Kaiba turned to look, and the black-haired boy held up his hands. Roland Ackerman stood behind the boy, looking haggard. "See? I'm not hurt. I'm sorry. I made you worry, didn't I? It's okay now. Nobody's hurt. Right? It's okay, now, right?" Kaiba's eyes flicked to Yuki, to Kohaku, and the question on his face was clear enough…to Mokuba, anyway. The boy said, "I was scared at first, but…but it's okay now. I'm okay. Promise." He tried a smile.

And that was it.

Kaiba closed his eyes, sighed, and slammed his weapon back into its holster. He turned away from the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle and walked over to his sibling. Mokuba gave a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, and all the tension evaporated from the room.

Kaiba put a hand on Mokuba's shoulder; the rest of the world ceased to exist for him.

Joey stole a glance at Yuki. Gone was the fear, the heartache; in its place was pure confusion. She was staring at the Kaiba brothers with a blank expression on her face. Joey saw her mouth the word "Niisama."

Yami took in a deep breath as himself, and let it out as his host. It was like an optical illusion, and a lot smoother than Joey could ever remember seeing before. The man's expression went from calm and collected to exasperated and shaken.

"…Ohgoodholychrist." Tristan all but collapsed with relief, cracking a grin and letting out a sharp, less-than-pleasant little laugh. Kohaku was still clearly on guard, but seemed to notice that everyone else (except Téa) was calming down. Eventually he seemed to accept that the danger was gone.

Joey found that he could move now.

Yugi was walking over to the card table, which had upended and was lying on its side (thankfully, there was no way that Kaiba would see the bloodstain and slash mark from the knife that had impaled it). Joey stepped over and helped his friend lift it and take it out of the room before shots started flying. He, and Yugi, knew without thinking that if the elder Kaiba saw proof of the injury Yami had inflicted on the younger, that would be the end of it. Reflex and instinct would burn common sense to a cinder, and Yugi would be dead, whether Mokuba was here or not.

"Did he letcha out?" Joey asked as they entered the storeroom attached to the main floor.

"I forced my way out," Yugi said, grimacing. "This guy, whoever he is…he's smart, and he's obviously powerful, but he can't be trusted to act anything like the Yami we remember. I can't let him talk anymore. He's liable to make Kaiba's head explode. Or _mine."_

"Hey…I'm sorry, man. I tried to do somethin', but…I couldn't move."

"Don't worry about it," Yugi waved it off. "I think _he _had something to do with _that _part, too. The important part is that we should be okay now." He looked over at Joey with an odd look in his eye. "You don't think Kaiba will do anything, do you?"

Joey thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "No. Kid's here, and Kaiba ain't one for lettin' anger get the better of him where Mokuba can see." The fact that he felt like such an expert on Kaiba's psychology struck him as ridiculous, but all the same he couldn't shake the certainty. "Gotta set the right example, y'know?"

Yugi grinned as he picked out another table—long and rectangular instead of round—and headed toward the door. "You've certainly gotten soft on me, Joey. Since when do you give Kaiba the benefit of the doubt?"

"What can I say?" Joey shrugged. "Kid rubs off on ya. I'm…wiser now. Or whatever." They headed back to the main floor of the shop with the table in hand. Yugi leaned it against the counter and began picking up the various toys and games that had fallen to the floor as a result of Kaiba's…welcome.

Joey set to helping him.

"We're just as confused as you are, Seto," Kohaku was saying, and Joey had to steal a glance up at Kaiba to see his reaction to being called by his first name. It wasn't pleasant. Kohaku didn't notice, however, and looked at his wife. "Truth be told, I'm not sure this was such a good idea."

"I know that, Ko," Yuki said. "But what else could we do? No one _else _offered to help us. Besides, I guess in this place…Gozaburo is dead?"

"…He is," Kaiba finally spoke, his voice flat and noncommittal.

"He died five years ago," Mokuba put in.

The logical next question was "How?" but Joey was relieved by the fact that Yuki didn't ask it. When he and Yugi had set up the table, and Yugi began to put out the folding chairs for them all to sit, the blond studied their guests again. Somehow, he couldn't stop staring at them. Maybe it was because he knew that they were supposed to be dead. But then, _Yami _was dead, and the spirit of the puzzle had never given him a feeling like this: a feeling like the world itself was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and if they moved too far in one direction it would topple over and crash into a world where up was right and down was left.

"I don't like this," Kohaku said.

Joey saw Kaiba start to speak, but he clamped his mouth shut and turned away instead. Mokuba had let go of his brother's waist, but still kept a vice-grip on his hand. Kaiba sat down on one of the chairs, and Mokuba sat next to him, watching Kaiba's face.

"None of us _like _this," Yuki said. "Someone is threatening our lives."

This seemed to catch Kaiba's attention. Mokuba's, too.

The black-haired boy looked over at Yuki; his brother gave a little flinch in her direction. Yugi, apparently deciding that this was as close to interest as he was going to get out of them, said, "Okay, everyone. Let's sit down and regroup. And…pretend the last twenty minutes or so never happened."

The Yagamis all turned a surprised look at him; they hadn't seen the shift, and apparently didn't know what it meant. Yugi's voice had changed. It was lighter, somehow _brighter, _and his face clearly showed far less confidence and nonchalance. He looked nervous, but he also had a look of self-control about him that Yami hadn't.

Yuki was clearly inching up on the almost lethargic level of shock that had afflicted her husband; the word had next to no emotion behind it, and her eyes had gone blank. Kaiba muttered something, but Joey didn't catch it at first. Yugi gave his rival a blank look and said, "Huh?"

"Chamomile…tea," Kaiba hissed.

"You…you want some—"

"Just _get _it!"

Yugi went white as a sheet and scrambled out of the room. Mokuba whispered something that only his brother could hear. Kaiba closed his eyes and visibly calmed. It was a weird thing to watch; like putting on a mask. His muscles relaxed, his scowl lightened to the faintest quirk of irritation, and when he opened his eyes again, they actually seemed to have dimmed.

He turned his gaze to Yuki, kept it trained there for a while like he was forcing himself to admit that she was there, and spoke. He sounded like a machine; the most advanced voice-box software ever. No emotion was in his voice as he said, "…Sit. Before you faint."

Yuki didn't speak. She didn't nod, or shake her head. She simply took a chair and sat down. Her son and husband quickly followed her lead. Little Seto Yagami sat next to her, and Kohaku next to him. Mirroring Mokuba, the youngest Yagami took hold of his mother's hand. This seemed to settle her.

Kohaku looked just as tense as Kaiba did.

Not a single word was spoken in the ten or so minutes that followed until Yugi came back out with a steaming mug of tea. He set it in front of Kaiba, who pushed it across the table to Yuki.

"Is the water still hot?" Kaiba asked without looking at Yugi.

"Yes."

"Hot chocolate. Two mugs."

"I…couldn't you have said something about that _before_ I—"

"You have two hands, not three. Do you trust yourself with a tray right now?"

Yugi stared, blinked, and left the room.

"The hell? One o' us coulda helped him carry it."

Kaiba glanced at Joey, raised an eyebrow. He didn't give an answer.

Joey wondered fleetingly if this was some kind of punishment. He didn't press the matter further. He didn't figure it was worth it. The man still had a gun, and his trigger finger probably still itched.

When Yugi came back with the hot chocolate, he set one down in front of Seto Yagami, the other in front of Mokuba. Kaiba nodded curtly and said, "Scotch." Before Yugi could snap an irritated retort, Joey stood up.

"I got it."

Yugi blinked. "…Huh?"

"Si'down. Calm down before he finds an excuse to knock you flat. None of us are havin' too good a day right now." And he left before Yugi could say anything. He found a liquor cabinet upstairs, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, and went back to the main floor. Without having to ask, he set them in front of Kohaku and sat back down.

"…I'm not sure what _that _was," Yugi said.

"Yeah, you are," Joey muttered. "You're just pissed at Yami, and you're projectin' it on Kaiba 'cuz he ain't makin' things any easier. Anyway, everybody calm down a bit, kick back with a drink, and we'll figure out what the hell's goin' on."

Yugi stared, openmouthed.

Kaiba actually smirked.

Joey leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

…_What the hell's happening to me?_


	25. A Spark like a Match in the Dark

_**Deciding to post this story one scene at a time was supposed to let me post things faster. That was the concept behind it. What it's actually done, though, is force me to really consider what's vital to this narrative. I've had a few scenes that I could have posted, but didn't, because they were just too short, and didn't add enough to the overarching plot to justify taking up an update.**_

_**Now that summer's here, I'm actively working toward improving my methods. Usually after a semester, I take a while to just coast. And in certain ways I'm still doing that. I'm watching YouTube and playing games and all that. But I'm also riding my bike, and doing some studying of my own.**_

_**I've also decided to resurrect my FictionPress account. Currently, I have one scene for my first story posted there. The link to my new account is on my profile, for anyone interested in seeing what I do when all bets are off. If you're liking this story, and its focus on family relationships, then I'm reasonably sure you'll find something to like in my original story, "Max Doesn't Believe in Jesus."**_

_** s/3125294/1/Max-Doesn-t-Believe-in-Jesus**_

_**I'd really appreciate it if you gave this project a shot. It's very special to me, not only because it's extremely personal, but because it's the first piece of original fiction that ever really spoke to me.**_

_**The titular character, Max, is the narrator for a novel I'm currently redrafting.**_

_**Anyway, let's get down to business, shall we? Let's check back in with the Kaibas and the Yagamis.**_

_**And . . . those other people.**_

* * *

"We weren't sure anything was happening at first," Yuki said, sipping at the mug of tea in her hands. "It all seemed like happenstance. But there are only so many coincidences you can accept before it becomes a pattern, and…well…"

"What kinds of coincidences?" Yugi asked.

"At first…just little things. Ko would get harassed at work by customers. But, that happens." Yuki put an arm around her son's thin shoulders. "Seto-chan told us he was being bullied at school again, but that didn't seem entirely out of the ordinary, either."

The look on Mokuba's face at the name "Seto-chan" was priceless.

Kaiba didn't bat an eyelash.

"Random debris falling from buildings, inches from our heads," Kohaku said. "We've stopped using elevators, escalators; I'm not sure I trust automatic doors anymore. It feels like every business in this city is owned by the Kaiba Corporation or one of its contractors."

"We would be taking a walk," Yuki said, "and a car would come barreling down the street and cut the corner. The last time, it was only because of Solomon Mutou that I wasn't flattened."

Kaiba blinked. "..Solomon Mutou."

"Yes," Yuki said. "He's the one who…who brought us here. With a kind of…ancient ritual."

"None of this garbage makes any sense." Kohaku poured a shot of whiskey, stared at it for a moment, and slammed it back. He set the glass down, poured another, but let it sit on the table. "Rituals and blood magic and death threats…and now whatever _this _is." He gestured all around him.

"Someone left a message on our answering machine," Yuki said, eyeing her husband a bit oddly. "It said, 'Deliver him to me.' I didn't know who sent it, or who _he _was supposed to be, until…until…"

Seto Yagami lowered his eyes, grabbed at his mug of chocolate like it was a lifeline, and drank. He did not speak. Yuki gave the boy a one-armed hug, and Kohaku ruffled his hair.

Yugi's face went blank; his eyes rolled back in his head. He said, "…Kaiba. Check your cell phone."

Kaiba blinked. "What?"

"Your voicemail. Check it."

Kaiba scowled, shook his head, and pulled a cellular phone out of an inside pocket of his suit jacket. He looked at it, scrutinizing it, before hitting a few buttons. A voice came from the tiny device, and perhaps the most striking part about it was that it didn't sound the slightest bit sinister; rather, it sounded bored: _"…Deliver him to me."_

Kaiba went stiff; Mokuba let out a gasp.

They spoke at the same time, seemingly without thought: "Otousama."

The longest two minutes in history passed in silence, then Kaiba closed his eyes and set his phone on the table.

His right eyebrow was twitching. "Mutou."

"Kaiba?"

"I would like you…to explain something to me."

"O…kay?"

"You expect, for some reason, that I will assist in fixing this problem of yours. You expect that I will protect a seven-year-old boy—who by all means should not exist because he has since grown into _me, _according to your belief system_—_from a man five years in the grave. I further suspect that you expect me to protect the lives of two _other _people I saw lowered into the ground more than _eight _years ago. Does this all sound accurate to you?"

He opened his eyes and set them on Yugi, who fidgeted in his chair.

"Well…when you put it like _that…"_

"Is that not what this is about? Is that not why you dragged Mokuba into this? So that he could convince me to throw my hat into this circus act? Surely you knew that coming to me directly would do no good whatsoever."

"…I did."

"So…can you remind me why you're still breathing? I'm having a hard time with that part. You've insulted me before, any number of times without realizing it, but this holds down a record. So enlighten me. Give me the answer. Please."

"This wasn't meant to insult you, Kaiba. I didn't know what Yami was doing until he'd already done it. All I know is what he told me: he was paying a debt. I guess he's trying to protect them. Maybe he thought you would help…you know. Because…because…"

"Because forcing my brother into a blood sacrifice and scaring him half to death is the perfect way to ask me for a favor. That's what 'blood magic' means, doesn't it? That's what Mokuba meant when he said you stabbed him. This 'Yami' of yours needed his blood to complete this 'ritual.' Correct?"

"…Yes."

"Let me ask you this: the last time someone hurt my brother and forced him into a bind with the intent of convincing _me _to do something, what favor did I offer them? Did I wash Amelda's car? Did I buy Malik Ishtar a new pair of shoes? Did I file Pegasus Crawford's _taxes?" _Yugi hung his head low, flinching with each sentence.

"_Answer me, Mutou!" _Kaiba shouted. Yugi jumped.

None of the others said a word, nor did they move.

Mokuba squeezed Kaiba's hand. "Niisama," he whispered.

It was a warning, but Kaiba wasn't of a mind to hear it, much less heed it. "Give your disorder a message from me," he snapped. "Let him know that if he thought this was actually going to work, then he's gotten slow, and _suicidal._I'm not going to ask how this happened, because I don't really care." He stood up, all but dragging Mokuba with him. "We're going home," he told the boy, who understood that enough was, quite clearly, enough. The man's patience had run out.

At the doorway, Kaiba turned. "I'd thought better of you, Yugi Mutou. I thought you were loyal, I thought you were trustworthy, but most of all I thought you were _smart. _Seems I was wrong on three counts. I hold out one last hope that you're smart enough to keep your distance from my brother. Make sure your family has enough money to cover a funeral, if you get it into your head to prove me wrong again."

And he was gone.

Yugi slumped back down in his chair, looking ready to cry. He sat miserably at the head of the folding table, staring down at his lap. He did not speak. Kohaku downed his second shot of whiskey, fell back in his chair and brooded.

Yuki and little Seto Yagami let their own drinks alone, lost in thought.

The silence was suffocating. Téa was fidgeting, and Tristan looked like he was grinding his teeth. Joey pushed against the table, balancing his own seat on two legs, and stared up at the ceiling for a while.

There was an almost audible click.

"…Well, _this_ is depressing as fuck," the blond muttered, hopping to his feet. He looked at the Yagamis. "What year's it, back where you came from?" he asked.

Yuki stared at him. "…1994?"

The blond cracked a smile. "Awesome. This'll be great."

He walked over to the front counter, where various displays of trading card booster packs were situated in a line beside the cash register, and began picking them out at random. "C'mon, Yug. You're still the expert, here. Get over here and help me."

Yugi looked over at his friend, looking dazed. "…Huh?"

Joey lifted a handful of about seven or eight packs and said, "When'd it first get released? '96? '97" Yugi blinked and nodded blearily. "Then get movin', help me fuck up the space-time continuum or what the hell. We're gonna liven this place up a bit, show mini-Kaiba over there what he's got t' look forward to." He leveled a suspicious look at Seto Yagami, who blinked and frowned at him. "You like games, don'tcha, kid?"

"…Yes? Sir?"

Joey blinked, then burst out laughing. Seto flinched. "Oh, get that recorded, somebody! That was ridiculous. _Sir, _he says. Oi. _Yugi! _I'm serious, get up. M'I gonna have to come over there and drag your ass? I'll do it. Don't think I won't."

"What…what's this about?" Yuki asked.

"What _are _you doing?" added Kohaku.

Joey quirked an eyebrow. _"I'm _sick o' the depressed-ass looks on everybody's faces. Téa's stuck in pity-party mode, Tristan looks catatonic, _Yugi's _frickin' contemplatin' suicide over there, and God only knows what _you_ folks're thinkin' about. _He _looks bored. Bored I can do. _Yugi! Here! Now!"_

Yugi finally stood up and shuffled over to the counter.

Joey smacked him upside the head. "Fuckin' stupid. What the hell'd you expect him to do? Spin you around the room and kiss you? Mokuba'll calm him down. _Oi! Yami! _If you're listenin', quit bein' a _douche." _This seemed to settle the matter for Joey, who then proceeded to ask Yugi what packs would be best. "We got _Avatar, _that's the new one, but what's the deal with this _Up Your Game _stuff?"

"It's kind of like an all-stars line," Yugi said, slowly. "I2 basically took the most iconic cards from the older sets and put them into this one. For people who missed out on them the first time."

"_Sweet. _Okay, so we'll grab some o' those…"

And so it went on. The Yagamis—and Tristan and Téa—watched as Joey and Yugi began sifting through packs and discussing strategies that only made sense to them. Every once in a while the blond would steal a glance back at Seto, who was sipping at his hot chocolate and staring at them.

Joey could spy a spark of interest in those creepily familiar eyes.

A part of him wondered why he was so suddenly giddy about this, but he figured later that there was no use fighting it: it was hard to be pissed off at a guy who was two feet shorter than he should've been, and technically hadn't even done anything that warranted being pissed off at him in the first place.

At least, that's how he rationalized it. Anybody else would've just said that he had a soft spot for kids.

"How long're you guys gonna be here?" Joey wondered.

Yuki blinked. "I…don't really know."

Kohaku shrugged.

Yugi frowned. "…If the stories I've heard about Gozaburo Kaiba are true, they'll be here a while. It took Kaiba years to take him down." Yuki frowned, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "…Not that it'll take that long this time, I'm sure. He's got resources now. Should be able to make quick work of everything…if we can convince him to help."

"And if not?" Yuki pressed.

"…Then we fight magic with magic."

"A'right, everybody, shut up," Joey snarled. "We get it. He's big and scary and we gotta take him down. Whether they believe it or not, you really think Mokuba's gonna ignore people in danger? He'll calm Kaiba down and convince him. There's no use worryin' about it yet."

"What makes you so sure?" Kohaku asked.

Joey smirked. "I'm enlightened. Cool off, man. We're good. Even if I'm wrong, which I'm _not, _we saved the world, like, four times. Ain't you heard? Now! C'mon over here, Chief. This ain't a game where we can just pick things out for ya. Gotta build a deck yourself."

"But—" Kohaku started.

Yuki put a hand on her husband's shoulder, cutting him short. She looked at her son, who seemed to be waiting for permission before getting up. "Go ahead, baby," she said, gentle as a summer breeze, and ruffled the boy's hair. Little Seto hopped out of his chair and rushed over the counter, where he started looking at the various packs of cards scattered there with obvious hunger.

Joey chuckled. "…That's just _adorable." _He looked at the others. "Oi! Sleepy, Mopey! Shape up! What kinda impression you givin' these guys? Act like big damn heroes!"

Yugi handed the boy a pack. "It's not the same if you don't open them yourself."

Seto frowned suddenly. "…How much do these cost?" he asked, clearly suspicious.

Joey frowned for a moment before saying, "We got a little program goin' on around the shop right now. Way it goes is, first deck is free. So we'll help you make up somethin' good, and you can go ahead 'n keep it. But here's whatcha gotta do in exchange. You gotta beat either me or Yugi here in a game. If ya challenge us 'n lose, you gotta pay for the cards. Win, they're yours forever. Sweet deal, huh?"

Yugi raised an eyebrow at him.

Joey winked.

"But if you help me build it," Seto said, "you're going to know what's in it."

"True," Joey said, picking up a few packs. "But that's why we can only help ya a little. Gotta spice things up a bit on yer own. Here's what we'll do. You tell us what kinda deck you want, what kinda monsters 'n stuff you like, and we'll build up a starter for ya. Then, you take a few packs extra 'n add 'em in. Keep us on our toes. Sound good?"

"…Okay."

"Here," Yugi said, handing the boy a little booklet. "These are the current tournament rules. Take a look at them before you make any decisions, okay? It'll help you pick out the right deck. With this game, you really have to pick the cards that speak to you. Y'know? Trust your instincts."

Seto Yagami took the booklet and went back over to his seat in between his parents, flipping pages so quickly that Joey thought at first he was just glancing over them, like any kid does with the instructions to a new game. But there was something about the way his eyes were moving that told the blond Seto wasn't just skimming for colorful pictures.

He was…_absorbing._

"So…what _is_ this, exactly?" Yuki asked, glancing at the rulebook in her son's hands.

"Card game," Joey said. "New set comes out every coupl'a months. Called _Magic & Wizards. _You fight your opponent with monsters," he picked up a monster card and showed it to her, "and ya back up yer monsters with spells 'n stuff, set traps for the enemy. Real strategic-like. Tournament players're called duelists."

"And are you two duelists?" For a wonder, she didn't sound condescending; she sounded honestly intrigued. But…worried.

"Yeah," Joey said. "Yugi 'n me, we've won a few. Hey, how 'bout we make this interesting, Yug? We take up some packs, build the best stuff we can in about five minutes, and we'll use those, huh?"

Yugi mulled this over. "…Okay. That sounds fair."

"You're not going to go easy on me, are you?" Seto asked. His tone of voice was entirely too familiar, and Joey laughed. Yugi smirked. Their eyes held the same competitive gleam, and when they spoke, it was in precise unison:

"Wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

_**The tone of this chapter shifts rather dramatically somewhere in the middle. I'm sure it was noticeable. If not, then clearly I haven't done my job. But the reason for that is that this was originally split into three scenes, ergo three chapters, and that's just no fun.**_

_**It works thematically, too, though, since the catalyst to the change in mood is Joey. He has that effect on people, and that's something that I've been exploring for quite a while now.**_

_**Hope you had fun with this little spin on events. The plot has been thickened, a theme revealed, and we also had some fun with time travel. Also, little Seto has always been fascinating for me, and I hope it's the same for you.**_

_**I'll see you next time.**_


	26. Like the Great Magic of Our World

_**There isn't too much to say about this particular chapter. After all the big reveals and death threats and time travel mumbo-jumbo, I thought it would be a nice change of pace to go with something…innocent.**_

_**Which is to say I hope this isn't boring.**_

_**Sometimes it worries me that I spend so much time working on this series, and "Blue Eyes, Violet Eyes," and seem to be neglecting the core story. I intend to get back into it soon. I just have some…housecleaning to do, metaphorically speaking.**_

_**But honestly, everything that happens across the board in any of these three stories is connected to every other. That is, after all, the point of putting them under the "Paved with Good Intentions" heading.**_

* * *

Enid Brinkley had established early on that when she told her son (or her husband, as she was sometimes known to do) to clean his bedroom, she was as demanding as any drill sergeant. Part of it may have been the fact that she'd grown up with a United States Marine for a father. But most of it had to do with the fact that she was a tyrant.

At least, that's what Connor tended to think.

She was pacing through the boy's sanctuary while he waited in the living room like a death row inmate; she inspected every corner and hard angle, every nook and, of course, cranny. Admittedly, the room was small. There wasn't much room for him to make a mess; although that tended to mean that the mess he inevitably did make just piled up on other messes, until it felt like an archaeological event every time he went looking for something.

She heard the phone ring.

Connor answered. "Good afternoon," he said, quaintly polite. "Brinkley residence."

A moment of silence.

"Oh! Hi, Mister Kaiba! I…huh? Oh. Yeah, sure. Hold on."

He came into the room and handed the cordless phone to his mother. "It's Mister Kaiba," he said as Enid took the device from him. "He says he wants to talk to you."

Enid held the phone to her ear. "Yes?"

"_Good afternoon, Missus Brinkley,"_ came Seto Kaiba's voice, sharp as a chef's knife as it always was. _"Mokuba has invited Connor to visit next Saturday. I trust Connor has mentioned this."_

"Yes, he has," Enid said. "He's quite excited. What is it, Mister Kaiba? Did something come up?"

"_It's possible that Mokuba and I will be required to attend a conference out of state that weekend,"_ Seto said. _"The decision isn't final yet. Would it be at all possible for Connor to visit the estate this afternoon?"_ Something about the way Seto referred to his home as "the estate" didn't feel right to her. It wasn't arrogance in the man's voice she heard; rather, Enid thought she heard a certain amount of...bitterness? She wasn't sure.

Enid looked around the room, decided it would suffice for now, and found a smile. She said, "I don't see a problem with that. Should I drop him off?"

"_If you'd like,"_ Seto said, and she heard a certain amount of relief in his voice. Enid wondered at that, but didn't press. _"I can have Copeland pick him up from your house."_

"No, no, that's fine. I have to head out, anyway."

"_Thank you. I have to leave in a moment. From the sound of it, Kaiba-Corp is about to collapse."_ She wondered if that was Seto's attempt at a joke, but couldn't help but think that it didn't sound all that impossible for it to be the truth, especially considering the deadpan tone Seto used to deliver it. _"My chief of security will be present, as well as our chef. I'll be back this evening. Would it suffice if I brought him home at eight o' clock?"_

"Yes, of course. That would be fine."

"_Excellent. Thank you, Missus Brinkley. You have the address?"_

"I do. Mokuba gave it to us when he invited Connor to visit."

"_Fine. I have to go, Missus Brinkley."_

"All right, then. Goodbye, Mister Kaiba."

"_Goodbye."_

He hung up. "Connor!" Enid called, figuring if she didn't deliver the news immediately, the boy would explode. "How would you like to visit Mokuba a little earlier than expected?"

As expected, Connor popped into the room looking like it was his birthday, his eyes nearly as wide as his grin. Enid couldn't help but think, _God bless that boy,_ as she sat back and marveled at the fact that she'd never seen her son like this before he'd met Mokuba Kaiba; nowhere even close. Leo was under the impression that it was as simple as Connor having found a real friend, but Enid thought it was more than that.

Mokuba seemed to make it his eternal mission to make everyone happy. He wasn't satisfied until everyone around him was smiling and laughing. Enid had spoken to some of his brother's employees, and they all seemed to agree on this point.

"People think that Master Kaiba got the drive and determination and Young Master Mokuba got the charisma," Roland Ackerman had said once, when they'd had a chance meeting in the parking lot of East Rivers Middle School. "That's such a fallacy that it makes me want to cry. They each have an overflow of both. It comes down to which one is easier to notice."

"It's a living miracle," Travis Copeland attested. "When you consider the crap—pardon—that's been shoveled onto them both since day one, you have to wonder how he's kept his brother as happy and well-adjusted as he has. Kid walks around with sunshine in his pocket, passing it out to anyone he meets. Know what I mean?"

She did.

"Really?" Connor asked, bouncing from one foot to the other, and Enid blinked.

Enid nodded. "Turns out Mokuba might be out of town this weekend," she said, "so Mister Kaiba's offered to have you come by today."

"Awesome!" And off he went, grabbing his backpack from his desk and cramming God only knew how many things into it. He was halfway through busting the bag's seams before he turned to his mother and asked, "...I can go, right?"

Enid tousled her son's hair. "No, I just told you that to be mean. Of course you can go."

And he was back to the races again.

Enid tried to remember how it had been in the beginning, when Connor had been _afraid_ of Mokuba Kaiba, and couldn't quite manage it. The straight of it was, the heir to the Kaiba Corporation had bent over backwards to prove that his nasty reputation wasn't the slightest bit true, and any negative thoughts Enid might have ever harbored about him had long since been dashed completely.

She thought of Gareth, of his wife and son, and felt sick to her stomach. If she could ever convince them of the truth, she would eat her own shoes. They probably figured—if they thought about it at all—that Mokuba was a mirror-image of his brother (they probably also thought that Seto was the Antichrist), and that the nice boy was an act.

Connor threw himself out of his bedroom with his coat half-on, and Enid couldn't help but laugh a little as she followed him out to the car, thinking that it didn't really matter what Gareth, or Nadine, or Matt, thought about Mokuba Kaiba.

The excited grin on her son's face was all the testament to the truth that she would ever need.

* * *

_**D'awww. Yes, I know. Sap City. But c'mon. You should be used to this by now.**_

_**I really should see about getting Mokuba into some trouble, just to prove to myself that he isn't perfect. Heh. I think I might just have something in mind, but we'll have to see how that unfolds.**_

_**Does that count as a cliffhanger?**_


	27. I was Thinkin' About You

_**Akiko was one of those characters, like Detective McKinley, who just kind of popped up. She started out as just a face with a name, but as time went on she seemed to become integral to my understanding of the Kaiba dynamic. It took me a little while to even get used to the idea that Seto and Mokuba would have a house staff; but once I realized the truth of that, I realized that I needed to get to know some of them. Travis and Connolly, driver and chef, showed up first; then Clinton, head of the cleaning crew.**_

_**The odd part about Akiko is that I'm not sure what her role is. I guess it depends on the story. In "Cemetery Dance," when I first came up with the face with a name, she was a maid. Now…well. Now she's a bit different. This chapter goes into what she thinks of herself, so maybe I should just let her do the talking.**_

* * *

Yoshimi Akiko wasn't the sort of person to take her work home with her.

Or so she'd thought.

The truth of it was, she wasn't sure _what _sort of person she was anymore. But recently, she was apparently the sort of person to make a good impression on Seto Kaiba which, if his reputation was to be believed (and she thought it was), wasn't easy.

It had started out simply enough. She'd been hired to work at the Domino Children's Home after a three-month internship there (two months earlier than any of the other recruits from her child development course at Westbridge Community College), and it had seemed like a dream.

She'd grown to know the people there, respect the people there. They'd become like a second family. But she hadn't ever brought them home. When those in her personal life asked about it, she'd told them, but that had seemed to be the end of it. She wasn't sure why, but the discussion just didn't come up all that often. She loved it there, loved working with the children there, and wouldn't have traded any of it for the world. But she'd definitely had two lives back then.

Something changed.

When Seto Kaiba had asked after a private tutor for his younger brother, he hadn't pursued specialists, doctors and professors and cutting-edge theorists. He'd gone to Kristine. Big Kristine, who didn't spend a single moment of her time _not _improving the lives of her city's orphans.

He'd asked her: when one of the children had a problem, and all else failed, who stepped in? Who was the best? Who would Kristine Hathaway trust with her own child?

For some reason she would never understand, Big Kristine hadn't spared a moment of hesitation before telling him that he was looking for Yoshimi Akiko; the young student that tended to go by Yoshi. Akiko couldn't for the life of her understand why _she'd _been recommended to one of the most critical, demanding employers in the country. But after a while he'd come to her. And she had accepted his offer.

She didn't know much about Seto Kaiba, even _after _working under his employ for a stretch, but she'd known enough even then to realize that when this man offered you a job, the only real option was to take it.

Now she was back, after two weeks in the house where she'd grown up, after spending two weeks caring for a woman she'd thought far too stubborn to ever die, and Akiko realized that the Kaiba Estate felt more like home than that old house ever had.

It felt more like home than the Children's Home, more like home than the apartment she'd rented before Seto's offer. She still wasn't the sort of person to take work home with her.

She was apparently the sort of person to bring home to her work.

It probably had to do entirely with the little black-haired, violet-eyed boy who was the reason for her paycheck every two weeks. So far as the rest of the staff—except Roland Ackerman, majordomo to the reigning king of Domino City's upper class—knew, Yoshimi Akiko earned that paycheck by being Mokuba's private tutor. She was there to help the eleven-year-old wunderkind if his schoolwork happened to cause him trouble.

Of course, since he'd left the isolation of home-schooling and begun to attend East Rivers Middle, she hadn't felt like there was much to do on that front anymore. She'd started back at the Children's Home during the hours when her charge was left in the care of Joanna Lorwell and her capable colleagues.

But just because she was a tutor in the strictest sense of the word didn't mean that that was the full extent of her job.

She tended to think of herself as a modern-day Jane Eyre: the governess to a rich man's ward. The way Seto put it, her job was to "watch him." The way Roland said it, her job was to "tend to him."

The way everyone else would have said it, if they'd honestly known, her job was to keep the poor boy sane. She had no delusions as to what she was to Mokuba Kaiba. She was a friend—or at least she thought she was slowly becoming one—and she was the young heir's favorite amongst the house staff. But as far as keeping him sane went…

That was, had been, and always would be, Niisama's job.

The thing was, Seto had other jobs to complete, other duties to which he had to tend, much as he might have _liked_ to be at his brother's side at all times. In fact, Akiko had reason to believe that if he _had _stayed at Mokuba's beck and call for any longer than the month or so just after Siegfried von Schroeder, neither of them would have ever recovered. Mokuba needed to see that his brother was strong enough to take back his life, so that he could take back his own.

Akiko's job, as far as _she _thought of it, was to distract Mokuba and keep him in a halfway-decent mood until Seto came home.

That had become steadily easier as time went on, and today her assignment was to look after one of the fundamental reasons for that. Roland Ackerman had told her personally that she would be the face of the estate today.

"I think he'll have a better chance of lightening Young Master Mokuba's mood than any of the rest of us," he'd said, speaking of Connor Brinkley. "I want you to keep an eye on them both. You see _anything, _tell me immediately. Understand?"

Akiko had nodded. "Yes, sir."

She didn't usually work Saturdays, as Seto usually made a point to stay home. She hadn't expected to start back at work until Monday. She didn't know what had Mokuba in a bad mood today, but she knew that when Mokuba was in a bad mood, Seto was downright murderous, especially _these_ days, and that that would lead into a spiral that would eventually lead to some measure of explosion. Any chance of cutting it off was one she was willing to take.

Connor was a handsome boy, with an open face and an honest smile. Just the sort of person Mokuba would befriend, and of whom Seto would approve. When Akiko greeted him and his mother, she bowed. "Welcome, Missus Brinkley, Master Brinkley." He bowed back, unsure if he should or not. Enid smiled.

Akiko usually wasn't so absurdly formal, but something about the nature of this place; something about the clean-cut, dark, almost severe suit she was expected to wear while working in this place, brought out the rigid tradition in her.

Connor blushed at the title.

"My name is Yoshimi Akiko," she said to Enid, who shook her hand. "I'll be looking after everything until Seto-sama comes home."

"…sama…" Connor murmured thoughtfully.

"Thank you," Enid said. She was looking around the parlor. "This is…an amazing house."

Akiko laughed. "It is, isn't it?"

"Where's Mokuba?" Connor asked suddenly.

"Bocchan is in his room," Akiko said, and smiled at the blank look they both gave her. "It means 'young master,'" she explained.

"Oh," Connor said. "Cool."

"I'll show you." Akiko looked at Enid. "Would you like something to drink? A light snack, maybe? Connolly can rustle up almost anything."

The woman blinked, surprised. "Oh. Oh, no. Thank you. I have to head out to run some errands." She looked at her son. "Behave yourself for Miss…Yoshimi?"

"Akiko is fine."

"I will, Mom," Connor said in that distracted singsong voice that all children seem to cultivate in specific response to their parents. Enid leaned down and kissed the boy's cheek. Connor accepted this with resigned embarrassment, gave his mother a quick, almost nonexistent peck in return.

Akiko's smile widened.

"Come with me," she said. "I'll show you to the game room."

Once she had the young Brinkley situated, and made one final offer to have the chef make up a snack for his mother, Akiko went up to the second floor, stepped into the doorway of the younger Kaiba's bedroom, and found Mokuba sitting at one end of his bed, staring at a tiny photograph in his hands. He didn't look frightened, or in shock. Akiko thought that if there were anything she would call him right now, it was confused.

Wistful.

She stood there silently for a moment, thinking that he _must _be in a strange mood not to have noticed her yet. While he was nowhere near as constantly vigilant as his brother, Mokuba didn't "space out" as a rule. Even in the safety of his own bedroom.

Akiko watched him for a short while longer, unable to reconcile what Roland had told her about the day so far; he didn't look hurt, or sad, or…well…_anything. _Maybe that was the problem. Maybe Mokuba was beginning to adopt his brother's strategy for stress.

Shut all emotions down.

In light of that, Akiko's brow furrowed in concern. Now that she thought about it, that was _exactly _what Mokuba looked like right now: his brother. He had that nothing-else-is-happening level of focus that Seto tended to get when he hit the right stride behind his desk; the I-don't-care-unless-the-house-is-burning approach to his surroundings.

He was focused, every fiber was focused, on that little photograph.

And whatever thoughts that sprang from it.

Akiko eventually gave a little knock on the doorframe.

Mokuba didn't flinch, as she'd expected him to do. He simply raised his gaze from the picture up to the door. The flinch came when he saw her; he'd been expecting someone else. His brother, maybe. But a smile rose on his lips, as bright and vibrant as she'd ever seen it.

"Bocchan," Akiko offered, giving a smile of her own. "How've you been?"

"Okay," he said. "Kind of a…crazy weekend, but…you know. Okay."

"So I've heard," Akiko said. She saw that he'd put his hand, and the picture in it, on the side of the bed where she couldn't see it. She wondered if he realized what he was doing, but again decided not to press. One of the first things she'd discovered about dealing with the Kaiba brothers was the importance of knowing when to face the storm and when to find shelter.

Something about the atmosphere right now told her to back off.

"It's been a little while," Akiko said.

"Yeah," Mokuba agreed. "How's your mom?"

"Not the woman I remember," Akiko said, "but…content. I think she'll be okay." Truth be told, Akiko didn't think Yoshimi Kaoru was ever going to be okay again, and she wondered if she hadn't made a mistake in leaving when she had, but she knew—the same way she knew not to ask about the photograph—that telling that to Mokuba was a bad idea. "So what has Bocchan been up to? Hm?"

Mokuba shrugged. "…Stuff. You missed Niisama's birthday."

"I know. I would have sent a card," Akiko said, still wondering why Mokuba had decided to divulge _that_ particular secret, "if I'd thought Seto-sama would actually read it." Mokuba gave a little chuckle that was almost natural. "I trust you got him something nice?"

It should have been an innocuous question.

It should have been safe.

But Mokuba went white, and his entire body stiffened.

Akiko blinked. "…Ahem. Well…never mind about that." She didn't like the suddenly squeaky sound of her own voice, and she liked the way Mokuba's mouth was working like he was choking on something even less. She said, "I actually came up here to tell you that you have a guest."

Mokuba regained enough of his composure to figure out a reply.

He said, sounding scared, "…C-Could you tell them to come back another time?"

Akiko frowned thoughtfully, deciding to try a gamble. "…Well, I _could…_his mother might still be out on the grounds, heading for her car…but he seemed _so _excited to finally see the house. It'd be a shame to send him away so soon."

Confusion banished the haunted look on the young Kaiba's face.

She pressed on.

"I'll just tell Master Brinkley you're not feeling well."

She made to leave.

"Wait! Kiko! Hold on!"

* * *

_**Do you know which little photograph Mokuba has? I bet you do. But, if you don't, the core "Paved with Good Intentions" should have a clue for you. It's not something I just threw in there; it has some significance. I'm not sure why I'm being so mysterious about it, but I suppose I'll just roll with it for now.**_

_**See you next time, everyone.**_


	28. It's Goin' Down

_**I don't consider this story a time travel story. I already have two of those on this account. It's my favorite genre convention. What I consider this story is a many-worlds story. That is to say, the world where my particular version of Yami lives is parallel to the one where "Paved with Good Intentions" exists. There are gates, and all Yami did was open one, and usher the Yagami family through.**_

_**That they happen to be about ten years behind the GI timeline is just a happy coincidence.**_

_**Actually, it's not. I totally did it on purpose. Just so that I could write scenarios like this one:**_

* * *

"He…he didn't…_shut up, Yugi! _You watch your mouth, you sonuva—and what're _you _laughin' at?!"

It wouldn't have taken a very observant person to know that Joey Wheeler was playing up his frustration. He seemed used to this sort of behavior; he fell into it too naturally. In spite of the sharpness of his tone, his face was happy and his eyes were bright.

Not an iota of actual irritation was directed at Seto Yagami, or any of the others.

Nonetheless, he was a convincing actor. Yugi flinched away from him, but couldn't help but smile. Yuki Yagami didn't think of herself as a master at reading people, but she had a pretty strong idea that this was what he'd been after in the first place; this was what he'd wanted. In a way, it taught her something. Taught them all.

The mood in the room had been entirely too bleak, so what had Joey done? Brightened it. It was just that simple to him, and considering the laughter on nearly everyone's lips, it seemed like he was right. Maybe it really _did _work like that.

"Good work," Yugi said to Seto Yagami, patting his shoulder. He picked up the boy's cards, shuffled them with the speed and surety of a casino dealer, and presented the deck to its new owner like an award. "These are yours. You've earned them."

Seto gave a tiny little smile and a quiet "Thank you" as he took them, and even bowed at the waist. The quaint propriety of it seemed to surprise everyone but Seto's parents, who glanced sideways at each other and smiled.

Joey was grumbling. "I _had _him. Dead to rights, I frickin' _had _him." He looked at Yuki and Kohaku. "I swear to God, I was playin' to win. He brought it on, askin' us not to go easy on him. But…shi—er…sheesh. Yeah. That's what I was gonna say." He glared at Seto, who looked up at him blankly. "First-time player, huh? S' a buncha garbage, is what _that_ is."

"I'm…sorry?"

"_Wrong!" _Joey cried suddenly, and Seto flinched. The blond had an accusatory finger pointed at him. "Never apologize for victory. You win, you _feel _the superiority. You look at me and you say, 'It's not my fault you suck.' Say it. C'mon, Chief, say it."

"…It's…it's not my fault you suck."

"_Yes!" _Joey nodded, clearly pleased with himself. "S'right. Damn it. It's _not _your fault I suck." He glared down at his cards. "It's the frickin' _Time Magician's _fault I suck. And here I was, thinkin' luck was with me for even unwrappin' the damn thing."

Yugi laughed. "Your entire strategy always amounts to luck, Joey. It's not like this is the first time that's happened. The Time Magician isn't exactly a foolproof strategy no matter _what _position you're in."

"Blah, blah, blah," Joey muttered, waving a dismissive hand in his friend's general direction. "You rely on luck, too. You just slap the word 'faith' on top of it to make yourself feel better. It's stupid and you're stupid and I'm thirsty. Winner oughtta get me a soda, 's what he should do." He crossed his arms and pouted, until Seto asked where the refrigerator was. Yugi started to answer. Joey snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "Jokin', Chief. Jokin'. I got it. Oi, Yugi, _you _play him next. I wanna see what happens. And no cheatin'! Hear me in there, bitch-face? No backseat duelin'! Kid's new at it, 'n you'd be frickin' ruthless, usin' magic 'n shit. Knowin' _your _ass, you'd put him through one o' them penalty games're whatever."

Yugi blinked, then shivered, then smirked. "Now, now, Joey. Have I disillusioned you _that _badly? I'm not a _monster."_

"Uh-huh." Joey rolled his eyes. "Try that on a day you _haven't _scared Mokuba half to fuckin' death 'n sent his brother into a homicidal rampage. I might believe you, just for _funsies."_

"My, but you _are _protective of them, aren't you?"

"Not really. Those two don't need protectin'. But see, there's this thing I picked up on a while ago, friend o' mine taught me. You might know 'im. General philosophy is _don't be a dick. _I know _you _ain't all that interested in playin' by the rules, 'cuz you're like, Bizarro-Yami or whatever, but we—" he gestured around at himself, Tristan, and Yugi (and Téa, too, although she probably didn't think he had) "—look out for that kid. Last thing he needs is _magic _puttin' him through the ringer again. 'Specially from somebody he's s'posed to be able to trust. Betrayal ain't high on his 'Hey, Sounds Like Fun' list right now."

Yami raised an eyebrow. "I've upset you," he murmured thoughtfully.

The blond crossed his arms. "Yeah. _Kinda_. Yami I knew, yeah, he pulled some shit, put some people through penalty games. Teachin' lessons and crap. But you? Fuck, man, you _begged _Kaiba to put lead in your skull. So right now? I don't really trust you to play right by us. I been around people like you before, 'n they put a bad taste in my mouth."

"My, my…such severity." Yami bowed. "I'd have thought _you, _of all people, wouldn't be so…protective of the boy. I'm impressed." Joey sneered derisively, but Yami just shrugged. "…Very well, then. I'll tone it down, as you might say. Perhaps you are right. I've faith in the boy's ability to bring his brother to our side, but perhaps I would do well not to…rock the boat any further, so to speak."

Joey stared for a while, scowling. "Perhaps," he snapped, and walked away toward the kitchen. They all noticed that when Joey left the room, Tristan stood up. He was watching the spirit that _might_ still be his friend with suspicion, and more than a little hostility of his own.

But the look on young Seto's face was an entirely different animal.

Yami looked at him.

"…Are you good?" the boy asked, lifting his newly-won deck of _Magic & Wizards _cards. Yami crossed his arms, a curious expression on his face. "He called you ruthless," Seto continued, "but…are you _good?"_

There was a beat of silence as the world seemed to do a double-take.

A grin spread on Yami's face that would have frightened a shark.

"Why don't we find out, youngling?"

* * *

_**There are a number of reasons I started this project. I wanted to see how the Seto and Mokuba I've been molding throughout the Good Intentions series would react to having magic in their lives again. I wanted to see how the gang would react to the Yami they might have had, if the anime had been more like the manga. I wanted to see how the Kaibas would treat their parents if they met again.**_

_**But I also just wanted to have fun with it. I had fun with this one, and I hope you did, too.**_

_**I'll catch you next time.**_


End file.
